


The Third Sorceress War, Part III (Terra Rosa)

by Kount_Xero



Series: The Sorceress War [7]
Category: Final Fantasy VIII
Genre: D-Day, Gen, Sorceress War, Sorceress vs SeeD, Violence, War, depictions of violence, warfare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-22 20:15:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 29,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19992439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kount_Xero/pseuds/Kount_Xero
Summary: It was inevitable, its seeds sown years ago, and now that a line has been crossed, it's come to this. SeeD rises to counter the threat of the sorceress, and the sorceress rises to the challenge... the fated children have to go to war once again, this time against an enemy that used to be one of their own.





	1. Prologue (City Lights)

There were pale, glowing halos in the distance cluttering the horizon with luminous, irregular spots. From where he was standing, they seemed to blink, as if winking at him, inviting him down. He put his hands on the balcony railing and felt the cold metal bite into his palms, just for a second. The tiles under his feet were cold, clinging to his soles. The air felt like a lover’s hand across his scalp, gently passing through the small bits of hair growing. His body felt stiff, his breathing even.

His thoughts, on the other hand, were a screaming mess.

It all felt so soft, so rounded that it was all too sharp, too rough. The world around him seemed to be in a hallucinatory haze, and he was standing wide awake in it – like a well-drawn figure sticking out in a poorly-rendered background. Detached and out of place.

The week and a half that had passed after waking up didn’t feel like it had passed at all.

A soft, thick length of cloth was draped over his shoulders and it covered him as the hands manipulating it reached around his torso and united. He jumped, his entire body growing stiff. Her toes found his ankles and stayed there. Her closeness was enough to reduce him to tears, but he bit his tongue and held fast.

“It’s cold.” She said, “Why don’t you come back inside?”

“In a minute.”

“Owkay.”

She remained, wrapped around him, along with the quilt. A part of him felt relief; it felt safe, she felt warm. Another part of him shivered, felt wary of her, of her presence, her proximity. These two parts clashed in his mind as he shivered, finally, of the cold. He turned without a word and she released him. He went back inside, to the dark room. Selphie followed, her eyes watching his every move. Aware of her surveillance and guessing the sentiment behind it, Squall sat down at the foot of the bed. He remained there, unmoving, hands holding the quilt in place.

Looking at him, Selphie remembered how he was before the Second War. How well he had barricaded himself behind his walls – only this time, she feared it wasn’t quite his choice.

She decided to try the same thing she had tried before, to level with him. Maybe this would break his silence, break through his wall. So she stripped. She took the second quilt and wrapped it around herself, and sat down next to him on the bed. His eyes darted to her, lingered only for a second, and then he looked away. Selphie put her head on his shoulder and felt him breathe.

They didn’t speak for a minute. Selphie decided to try the other route.

“Wanna get a bite to eat?” she asked.

“I’m not hungry.” he replied.

“You have barely eaten anything since we got back.”

“Not hungry.”

“Drink?”

“Not thirsty either.”

“Squall...”

“Just stop.”

Selphie’s thoughts came to a grinding halt. Squall stood up and fumbled around for his underwear. Once he found his boxer shorts, he slipped into them and walked out of the room without another word.

Selphie wrapped herself in the quilt and laid down. She curled up and held her hands to her quivering lips. She closed her eyes. Something ached in her chest, something that couldn’t be eased by crying or screaming or drinking. It throbbed.

She felt that he was punishing her: for not letting go in that hospital room, or maybe for pulling him out of whatever nightmare Rinoa had plunged him into. Selphie shuddered at the second possibility, and its sister that he might have actually been happy where Rinoa had put him, and that she had torn him from that happiness.

She didn’t know why.

She didn’t think he did, either.

* * *

Squall was outside the door, beginning what he knew would be a pointless stroll through the halls of the Presidential Palace, into and out of rooms he vaguely remembered. It wasn’t that the walking helped, because nothing helped.

He couldn’t breathe in this place. The halls were too narrow, the ceilings too low. Even open spaces felt choked by their own spatial limitations. The lights were too oppressively bright wherever he went. Every room seemed to be burning. It was too hot, every single place he wandered into. Through his walk, he was sweating profusely, trying to catch his breath.

But it was all bearable if he was simply away from Selphie. Every night, he laid down next to her, felt her warmth, felt her arms around him, and pretended to sleep until she drifted off. Then he went to the balcony, his thoughts hell-bent on jumping, and the only thing giving him pause long enough for her to catch him every time, was the remote possibility that this wasn’t just another iteration, that she was really there.

...and if she was, it only made things worse.

Squall felt exhaustion catch up with him during his second time through the sleeping quarters. He stopped by a door. His mind registered the number but proved itself too tired to make a connection. Fuck it. Whoever it was, was going to give him a place to sleep. He knocked three times and waited. When nothing happened, he knocked again, but this time, he didn’t stop knocking.

The door opened and revealed a very sleepy Brea. When she took him in, her eyes grew wide as saucers.

“S-sir?”

“Can I sleep here?” he asked.

Brea yawned, despite herself.

“Y-yes, sir. Come in.”

Squall followed Brea into the room, and then, into the bed. He slid in, put his head to the pillow and fell asleep. Brea, slightly perturbed by his presence, took the couch and tried to relax. She sought refuge in the little piece of pride she could generate in having played her part in saving him.

But what she had done to save him kept her awake for the rest of the night, as he slept soundly in her bed and in her stead.


	2. Escalation

The soldier had grabbed the embassy worker by her shirt, a handful of material enclosed in his fist, and was dragging her through the way cleared for him across Deling Square. She had lost her shoes in the scuffle, it seemed, and some of her hair had been caught up in the soldier’s grip. She stumbled, tripped but managed to somehow keep herself on her feet all the way to the makeshift stage erected smack in the middle of the square.

Around her, a mess of people enclosing the scenery, being held back by adamantine bars and soldiers with rifles and swords. They were shouting, they were screaming, they were taunting, they were vomiting forth a mess of noise that couldn’t possibly be broken down into words.

The soldier dragged her up the steps and onto the stage, where instantly she felt stripped naked. She saw the President, standing there in her black suit, right next to the Field Marshal in full ceremonial uniform, and two soldiers per side of the stage. There was a cluster of microphone stands in front of her, leveled and ready.

The soldier behind her roughly shoved her down to her knees and she crumbled. She rose slightly, afraid to stand up, and watched as the President flashed a vicious smile. She looked down from the staging ground and saw a mess of cameras and reporters.

 _So this revolution will be televised,_ she thought.

The microphone’s feedback echoed sharply. Before she could utter her first word, another soldier came and kicked one of her co-workers down next to her. That was when the President began to speak.

“My fellow Galbadians, the nation of Esthar continues to prove itself an enemy of Galbadia. In light of recent evidence, we now know they had a part to play in the recent terrorist attacks, including the raid of the Presidential Mansion almost two weeks ago. Their support of terrorist groups is a threat to the solidarity of a unified Galbadia. A threat I will not let stand.”

She stopped to allow the crowd to react, which they did with a soaring chorus of affirmations that became a single scream.

“The nation of Esthar was generously given the interim to withdraw their political presence from Galbadia, including the embassy in Deling City, and so far, they failed to comply fully. It is inconceivable that we allow leeway for this - compromise on this matter is impossible, both in principle and in practice. The best policy towards terrorists and sympathizers is a policy of zero tolerance - a policy that I intend to pursue.”

She cast a glance at the embassy workers, three now, on their knees and looking at her, eyes filled with worry and fear.

“To this effect, we have rightfully apprehended those defiantly staying behind and keeping the embassy open in direct violation of Galbadia’s request. Our declaration of _personae non grata_ is not an optional one and as such, their crime is to willfully remain. Of course, having no due process in any case would be tantamount to despotism. Therefore, as of yesterday, it has been decided that any remaining Estharian officials, regardless of their status, will be detained indefinitely in the D-District Prison.”

The three workers exchanged glances, each one sinking further into dejection.

“Let this be a lesson to those who would think Galbadia without resolve. Take them away.”

Three soldiers moved. They bent down and cuffed the embassy workers and then dragged them off the stage. An armored mobile drew up next to the stage and its hatch opened. The soldiers pushed them inside and the hatch closed after them. The mobile drew off, and the soldiers returned to their places on the stage.

Rinoa continued.

“In line with this policy of zero-tolerance is our request of the Dollet Dukedom that they expunge all the remaining SeeDs within their borders in 48 hours. While a unified Galbadia is hardly possible without Dollet, their autonomy must nevertheless respected. I have no interest in repeating my father’s mistake in trying to conquer the Dollet Dukedom – but I will not tolerate the said autonomous body harboring potential terrorists. In 48 hours’ time, the Galbadian Army will, without intention to do harm, demand to sweep Dollet – no weapons, no violence, just a simple patrol. It must be understood that Galbadia’s security is and must be above concerns such as whether or not such a check is desirable. It isn’t, and we have no illusions about that, but it is nonetheless _necessary_. Let us hope that this crisis be a short one, and that the outcome be anything less than violence. Thank you.”

She turned away, and with the Field Marshal and the rest of her guard detail, proceeded off the stage.

* * *

Laguna stared at the screen in disbelief. Next to him, Kiros and Ward were bastions of silence.

“Why are they... how are they cheering her on?” Laguna asked, “Don’t they see where this is going?”

“They don’t.” Kiros said. Ward nodded. “She’s good. I don’t know how she got this good, but she’s good.”

“I don’t get it...” Laguna said.

Kiros shrugged, “She gave them something her father could never give, and in doing so, achieved more in two years than Caraway and Deling achieved together during their entire tenure. It was so simple, so basic...”

“What did she give them?” Laguna asked.

“A choice, Laguna. She gave them a choice. Between her and Caraway. Not much of a choice, but still a choice. They could choose who they wanted to govern them, and they chose her. She already had Timber on her side. Cupola didn’t care who it was under so long as it was left alone. Winhill, she had little trouble acquiring and so on and so on. She made a proper nation out of scattered city-states. Hell, from what I hear, even Hanfrey Islands are considering themselves a proper extension of Galbadia.”

“Still... isn’t this a bit extreme?”

Ward grunted non-commitally. Kiros continued:

“She used her position as Caraway’s defiant daughter to come to power. She tried to sink the Ocean Garden and get rid of the only threat to her, but when we failed in the Deling Offensive, she used it to create solidarity.”

“Solidarity?”

"Didn't you write the book on diplomacy?"

Laguna rolled his eyes, "Pretend I didn't."

“Against an external enemy. She created that enemy: SeeD. About two weeks ago, SeeD was a mercenary force. Now they are terrorists. Doesn’t really matter what they do, exactly, just that whatever they do, they are against her oft-mentioned _unified Galbadia_.”

Laguna sighed, “So what do you recommend?”

Ward chuckled. Kiros nodded.

“What _can_ we do? We’re already bailing out the last of the SeeDs in the Balamb Training Facility – I hear they’re vacating at an even pace. We’re already re-arming the Ocean Garden, trying to re-integrate our resident SeeDs into it... we pulled the embassy out, declared Galbadian officials as _personae non grata_ , and apart from all that, I don’t see what we can do for now.”

“Any word from the White SeeD ship?”

Ward sighed.

“They’re not getting involved.” Kiros said, “Far as they’re concerned, Edea’s orphanage is their place.”

Laguna ran a hand through his hair. “Then, unless something else develops, this is it for now.”

Ward cocked his head to the side.

“How’s Squall?” Kiros asked.

“I don’t know.” Laguna replied, “Honestly. Apart from finding him asleep in some random corner of the Palace a couple of times, I haven’t seen him.”

“You went through hell to get him back, man.”

“I tried to talking to him. He gives me this look, like he can’t believe I would dare try to address him, and he walks away. I don’t know what to do... I just don’t know.”

“Have you asked Selphie?”

“She’s the same... maybe worse.”

* * *

Squall woke up to the unfamiliar but somewhat welcome scent of another. The world outside of the sheets seemed too mercilessly rough, relentlessly cold. It was soft and warm here, warm and pleasant, with the smell of skin and light, airy perfume mingling together. He felt a body shift next to his, and a sigh escape her lips. His mind played back the ending of last night and he recognized the body as belonging to Brea.

A shot in the dark. The most random choice he ever made.

But Squall thought that it was safe, with her. She didn’t know, she hadn’t seen. For the first time in days, Squall felt safe. It wouldn’t be okay, and it wouldn’t be alright, but at least there was someone who didn’t know it.


	3. Lucid Espionage

Quistis limped towards Selphie’s door, her cane supporting most of her weight. Every step made her leg ache from the ankle up and every single inch forward reminded her of exactly how many different muscles were used in rotating which portion of the foot into which positions needed for walking. She felt every single requirement of a single step in painstaking detail.

Once she got to the door, she raised her hand to knock, and the still-black fist gave her pause. She didn’t get much use out of her right hand these days, and remembered every time she reflexively tried to grab something with it that she never would get much use out of it again. She used it for small things, one of them knocking, and every time, she could feel her arm moving and her skin vibrating with the impact, but not her hand.

Still, she knocked.

Selphie opened the door with worried eyes and a full bottle of gin, unopened, in her hands. She was wearing jeans and an oversized black t-shirt (that Quistis thought belonged to Squall.) Quistis felt overdressed, standing there in full uniform.

“Morning, Quisty.” Selphie said.

Quistis got inside and closed the door behind her. She made her way to one of the armchairs by the balcony and sat down. Selphie threw herself onto the other one, tucked one leg under herself and put the bottle down.

Quistis pointed at the bottle, “Selphie, are you..?”

Selphie shook her head, “No. Not drinking that. Just having it there makes me feel better.”

“Okay. Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

“Do you know where Squall is?” Selphie asked. Quistis was surprised at the question.

“Is that why you called me here?” she asked in response, “To ask me if I knew?”

“No, Quisty... Quistis, no. He just... left the room in the middle of the night.”

“He has been doing that.”

“But he’d turn up somewhere by now, he’d have fallen asleep somewhere in the Palace, nothing! I went through the entire place, he wasn’t anywhere! I... What if he did something to himself?”

Quistis reached out with her right hand, saw that she couldn’t extend her fingers enough to gently grab her friend’s shoulder, and opted to put her whole fist there, instead.

“ _Biblis Tactica_. Advisor Kiros’ chapter on the principles of war. What does it say about making assumptions?”

“I don’t... I don’t know, I didn’t memorize the damn thing...”

“ _In war, there is no room for assumptions, only inferences. Once you start assuming without basis, you lose – you are as good as your ability to turn bits and pieces of information into coherent wholes. An educated guess defeats an assumption any day of the week.”_

“I shouldn’t assume, I know... it’s just...”

“We still don’t know what exactly they did to him.” Quistis said, “We don’t know what he suffered through. He’s acting as we would have acted after the Second War...” something clicked in her mind and silenced her.

Selphie looked away. “...he won’t even touch me.”

Quistis didn’t say anything to let her speak.

“And that’s not the only thing... even before all this, after the Second War, he always... he’d always talk to me. Before Rinoa fucked off to become Ms. President Evil, weeks before, he had told me what he was feeling, what he was thinking...”

“Squall? He did?”

“After the Second War, yeah... always... but now he won’t say word one to me.” She sighed, “I don’t know what to do. I feel like... I feel like he’s punishing me.”

“Selph, that’s ridiculous. What would he punish you for?”

“For abandoning him. For letting Rinoa take him.”

“You didn’t _let_ her do anything.”

“But still, I-“

The phone ringing interrupted them. They exchanged curious glances, and Selphie went up and picked it up. In her head, she was already having one of the conversations she’d had with Palace staff or random SeeDs for the past week.

“Yes, hello?”

_“Lieutenant General Tilmitt?”_

Selphie’s attention piqued.

“Brea?”

_“Yes, sir, it's me. I just wanted to let you know that the General is with me.”_

Selphie felt her grip on the phone tighten.

“What... the fuck... is he doing there?”

_“He spent the night, sir.”_

Selphie swallowed her anger. Not now. Maybe later.

“Why didn’t you call me, Brea?”

_“I thought you might have been asleep, sir. I still don’t know why he came, but I don’t believe he intended to come here specifically.”_

“Oh? And what gave you that impression?”

Silence.

_“Sir, he just knocked on my door, asked me if he could sleep in this room, then went in and slept. He didn’t even look at me, or showed any signs of recognizing me.”_

_Don’t make assumptions, just inferences,_ Selphie reminded herself.

_“He’s still asleep. What do you want me to do, sir?”_

“Stay put.” Selphie said, “We’ll bring some clothes.”

_“I’m sorry, sir, it wasn’t my intent to-“_

“No. Not your fault, Brea. Not your fault at all.”

Selphie placed the phone down. Quistis, leaning on her cane, rose to her feet. She pushed a stray strand of hair away from her face with her frustratingly crude fist. Selphie seemed to be stuck on the conversation itself, and though Quistis had gotten the gist of it, she was now witnessing the gears turning. She could see anger, confusion, frustration, and a bit of despair reflecting onto her friend’s face.

“Selph...”

“He spent the night with Brea.” Selphie snarled, “With Brea.”

“Nothing happened, and you know it.”

“That’s not the point.”

“I hope not.”

“Let’s just go.” She said, walking to the wardrobe, “He’s gonna need some clothes. He’s in his underwear.”

Quistis didn’t say anything.

* * *

Brea placed the phone down. Behind her, her General, dressed only in his boxer shorts, was sitting at the foot of the bed, staring into nothing. She, herself, was down to only a loose white t-shirt and panties. She was partially glad that her General’s attention was focused on anything but her. Having him there, wearing almost nothing was beyond strange for her – it was almost surreal. Brea found that she had only ever observed or had spent time with Squall in their professional setting: her, aide, him, General. This was different.

Unsure of what to do, but feeling more and more distressed the longer she stood there, Brea resolved to get to the bed and sit down next to him. He didn’t react at all to her presence, so she focused onto him. There was some hair on his head now, but barely enough to color his scalp, and a few of the runes’ faint outlines were lingering. There were tan lines left of the machine around his head, but they weren’t noticeable enough unless you were specifically looking for them.

As for the rest of him, he had been kept in incredible shape. In fact, judging by what Brea had seen from his training sessions, he was a bit larger, a bit more muscular than before.

But beyond all else, Brea noticed his eyes. She had seen them, yes, and they were captivating no matter what your rank was, and that wasn’t the point. She had seen his razor-sharp military wit reflected in them, his passionate, boiling blood for combat revealed. His face had many times been betrayed by the undistilled, clear emotion in his eyes.

Looking at him now, Brea didn’t see anything. No thought, no pain, no joy, no reason, nothing. Just empty blue.

“Thank you.” Squall said suddenly, without looking at her.

“S-sir?”

“Drop the sir. I’m nobody’s sir.”

“...I can’t do that.”

“You just did.”

“Is that an order, sir?”

“Fuck it, yes, whatever.”

“Thanks for what, sir?”

“Letting me stay.”

Brea bit her lower lip.

“You shouldn’tve chosen me.” she said.

“I didn’t choose you.” Squall said, turning to Brea. His eyes made her shiver, “I found you. There’s a difference.”

Squall drew closer to her, making her instinctively back up a little. She felt slightly flushed, as the eyes she had seen vacant were now looking into hers, focused and alive.

“But back then as it is now, I’m glad it’s you.” He said, without moving away. The longer he lingered, the more flushed she grew, and his words let her draw her own meanings and lucid estimations.

Squall reached for her, and Brea tensed up, but his fingers softly brushed on the chain of her necklace and pulled at it until he acquired the Hyne Cross. He looked at her, as if demanding an explanation or just asking a question. She hesitated, but none of this was appropriate anyway, nothing was as it was supposed to have been.

“A gift from my valentine.” Brea said.

“Where is he?”

“He’s dead, sir.”

“Tell me about him.”

Before she could answer, a knock on the door interrupted them. Brea practically jumped out of the bed. She opened the door and let her superiors in with a rather clumsy salute. Selphie stomped past her and Quistis slowly made her way into the room.

Squall looked at them, and while Selphie bit her tongue not to speak in anger, and Quistis simply stood by and watched, Brea saw something in him that neither could have recognized: he was shirking from them, as if ashamed.


	4. H-Hour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapters of this part of the Third Sorceress War are named after military terms, for the most part. H-hour is defined as "the hour at which any major event set for the future is set to begin."

It was two in the afternoon when Field Marshal Irvine Kinneas arrived at the Dollet Dukedom.

Dollet’s main entrance was an archway that ran from one side of the highway to the other, looming over those who would step in. Two guard towers were keeping watch of the road, and in the middle were great, black gates, closed and locked by a mechanism operated by both guards.

Irvine lifted the collar of his greatcoat up and shook off the last bit of tension from his body. Behind him, a platoon of 50, backed by two standard mobiles, his own jeep and a support of several SAM08Gs (three per each of the four squads) had assembled, waiting for his command. Irvine put one hand on his ceremonial sword. In its holster, the weapon he had been using all this time, his PK380 was waiting and strapped to his back was his Bismarck.

Irvine strutted forward until he was certain that the guards on either side of him could hear him loudly and clearly.

“We are here on behalf of President Heartilly of Galbadia.” He said, “As of this moment, the two days’ notice given to the Dollet Dukedom to expunge all SeeDs residing therein, has expired. We are authorized to conduct a search of the city.”

“You aren’t authorized to be here.” The guard on the left said.

“Dollet is a sovereign state! What your President declares has no bearing here.” The guard on the right added.

Irvine pulled out his handgun. The guards reacted exactly as he anticipated: by bringing their rifles to bear. In response to their action, the sharpshooters stepped out of the crowd behind him and took firing formations, devoting equal attention to each of the guards.

“Please put down your weapons.” Irvine said, “I don’t want to have to end up killing either one of you.”

“We can’t do that!” the guard on the left said.

“You have no authority here!”

Irvine sighed. He took a deep breath and said:

“Fire!”

Before the guards could react, a hail of bullets tore into them and lef them in pieces. Irvine simply motioned for them to follow and together, as one unit, they marched to the gates.

* * *

The residents of Dollet watched in disbelief as the rhythm of jack boots pounding on cobblestones came echoing in. Those hearing it immediately rushed to their windows and doors, eyes searching for the soldiers they were accustomed to and feared seeing, their weapons gleaming in the afternoon sun, helmets obscuring intents. The platoon marched into the city as a singular unit, flanked on both sides by the lumbering SAM08Gs, and continued to sieve through the streets until they arrived at the Dollet Square.

Irvine turned to his soldiers and took a moment. He was almost shaking with excitement, feeling the air as a thick mass of adrenaline.

“As per your assignments you will separate and sweep each of the four main directions throughout the city. If you encounter resistance -and you will- what you do is at your discretion, but any of you kill a civilian and there will be a drumhead court martial right here, right now, and believe you me, my verdicts will be severe. Any questions?”

“Sir!” a soldier said, “On the off chance that we do find SeeDs, what do we do?”

“Bring them here, make sure you are followed by as many civilians as possible. A public execution is what I have in mind.”

“Yes, sir!”

“Now, scramble!”

Irvine sat down onto the edge of the fountain as his soldiers moved around the square in an orderly fashion and went off in their separate directions. All that was left were the standard mobiles and his own retinue of four soldiers. He put on his com-link and thought it miraculous that Odine could get them from back-carried comcasters to portable, wireless communications. Ah, the hidden miracles of Esthar.

He took out his pack of Marlboros and lit one up. Now all he had to do was wait.

* * *

The soldiers dispersed in their directions, and separated their squads into further four groups, one per building. The squad leaders themselves charged themselves with idly waiting for their squad to finish the sweep of the first square of their “grid” before moving on. The war machines, their dual gatling barrels eeriely twitching, remained with the squad leaders.

The soldiers entering buildings systematically moved from the top floors on down, knocking on every door, stating their intent and entering every home, followed in by the protestations of the homeowners as they proceeded in. The soldiers turned the homes they entered into inside out, looking everywhere but under the kitchen sink, often not-so-gently shoving away the hovering, objecting civilians. Balambites and a few Estharians watched in awe and disgust as the soldiers marched out the same way they had marched in - locked steps and quiet visages.

Once they cleared their assigned homes, they got out to the street, to their squad leaders, and proceeded onto the next four residences.

As they went through the city, each squad came across bars, cafes, restaurants and shops, the people in some of which were discussing even in that very moment the possibility of a Galbadian incursion into Dollet (“Oh, don’t be absurd! President Heartilly would never go that far!”) The soldiers poured into them and asked questions to random patrons, searched the kitchens and storage rooms. The soldiers took the demure solace of each of these places, leaving their patrons shaken from their assumptions.

Near the end of their search, three of the squads came across SeeDs, four of them. The SeeDs took up arms and resisted, one actually managing to kill two of her attackers before being overwhelmed by too many hands and too many punches and kicks. She, along with the others, were cuffed and dragged along the streets, followed by a flurry of curses and taunts. A few of the onlookers followed them down to Dollet Square, joined along the way by some of the more curious. One journalist, dining in a café, saw one of the SeeDs being taken away, and leapt at the chance to follow.

When the platoon converged on the square, Irvine was waiting.

* * *

The SeeDs were pushed down to their knees in front of the Field Marshal. The rest of the troops stood by in wait as the Field Marshal rose to his feet. A man’s voice broke through the silence as he demanded to be let through, and he was followed closely by the reporter. Wading through the disorganized ranks of soldiers, he made his way to the opening.

Irvine saw that the man, wearing a navy pinstripe suit, also bore a white sash. Irvine smiled. The Duke of Dollet.

“What is the meaning of this?” he asked.

“My Duke.” Irvine saluted him in mock respect, “These SeeDs are in direct violation of President Heartilly’s policy.”

“President Heartilly has no power here.” The Duke said, “Dollet Dukedom is an independent sovereign. We didn’t elect your president, and we do not fall under her jurisdiction.”

“We aren’t interfering in Dollet’s affairs.” Irvine said, “We aren’t here to try to do what Caraway failed to do some years ago. We are here simply to ensure that all SeeD presence is withdrawn from Galbadia. One way or another.”

“You’re obviously new to these affairs,” the Duke said, “These SeeDs are under my employ.”

“So you admit to harboring terrorists, then?”

The Duke opened his mouth to speak, but couldn’t form the words. He knew that he was cornered. The notion didn’t leave any breathing room, and he couldn’t object to it after admitting that he had been employing SeeDs.

“So stay out of our way and we’ll be out of your hair soon.” Irvine said.

He drew his PK380. A few of the soldiers around him exchanged glances – it was rare that the Field Marshal meted out punishment by himself. The SeeDs kneeling in front of him were silent and still. Was it resignation, Irvine wondered, or were they simply trying to calculate their odds?

_Either way..._

Irvine went to the first in line. He aimed at the back of his neck. He shifted the barrel slightly to avoid the spine. He pulled the trigger. The SeeD jerked forward and fell, and there he lay, twitching, gurgling, slowly choking in his own blood. He remembered Joaqim, writhing to his death similarly.

But this time, he felt nothing for the dying man in front of him.


	5. Recoil Delay

_“...evidence revealing that the Nation of Esthar has been supplying the terrorist SeeD groups with weapons and supplies, along with tactical and logistical support. President Heartilly has issued a statement, saying that the Balamb Training Facility is being charged with training terrorists and has 24 hours to surrender. President Loire of Esthar could not be reached for comment, though his silence has been interpreted by some as an admission of guilt.”_

Laguna switched off the TV and, screaming out, threw the remote to the wall. Ward clenched his teeth and cursed his inability to express his anger properly. Kiros didn’t flinch.

“Fuck this.” Laguna said and he reached for the phone at the center of the conference table. He tapped through the menus and called up Communications.

_“Communications, how can we be of service, Mr. President?”_

“Get the White SeeD ship on the line.”

Kiros raised an eyebrow. “What for? They’re going to say the same thing.”

“They can sit on the sidelines and pretend everything isn’t going to shit.” Laguna said, “We don’t have that luxury. Rinoa’s gunning for us, and this is going to come right to our doorstep soon. We need more than what we have.”

“So what’s their mission?” Kiros asked.

“I’m pulling Edea Kramer out of Centra. I’m not sure if she’s safe.”

Ward grunted, uh-huh.

“Her expertise as-“

_“President Loire, we’ve told you before: White SeeD has no intention of getting involved in the conflict between you and Sorceress Rinoa.”_

“But you still accept other types of missions, don’t you?” Laguna asked, “Given that you are paid your due?”

A brief pause.

_“...yes. We do. What did you have in mind?”_

“Escort mission. I’ll double your usual pay if you can secure them within the day.”

_“Who?”_

“Edea Kramer.”

_“You do realize that she has a husband, and a number of orphans currently under their care?”_

“Pick them all up. Bring their pet Moogles and nesting Chicobos along if you have to. Hell, bring on their archived finger-paintings and doodles!”

_“It will cost you.”_

Laguna clenched his teeth so tight that Kiros feared he’d crack a tooth. He clenched his fist, released his fingers and suppressed the urge to curse like he would during his days in the army.

“Whatever.”

_“Alright then. You’ve got yourself an escort, Mister President.”_

“Thanks.” Laguna snarled and he practically punched the line closed. He ran a hand through his hair, still seething with anger.

“Laguna...”

“Motherfuckers.” Laguna said, “Cunting shit-brained, limp-dicked, all-poise no-spine cocksucking mother _fuckers_!”

“You got them where you want them, don't you?”

Laguna huffed in frustration, “I swear, if it wasn’t so urgent right now, I’d spare some resources in bringing them here. In chains.”

“But... for now?” Kiros asked.

“I think I’m gonna drink something until my head spins.”

“Make that for three, and I’ll advise you to do so.”

“Like you even have to ask.”

Ward grinned.

* * *

Selphie took off her uniform and hung it next to his. She slipped into one of his t-shirts and nothing else. She went to the fridge to see if they had anything to drink. Two gin bottles, clear and tempting, looked back. Selphie took one and went over to the balcony.

Squall had carried one of the armchairs out, and was sitting there, gazing out into the city. Selphie pulled the other one out and set it down diagonally to his. She opened up the bottle and took a large swig. That didn’t quite do it for her, so she took another couple.

He was just sitting there. Jeans and an old t-shirt, no trace of his uniform. Completely silent and still. His face was a mask, making it impossible to discern what he was thinking, what he was feeling – if he was doing either at all.

“Wanna drink?” Selphie asked after a fourth swig, starting very faintly to feel it, “There’s another in the fridge.”

“No.”

Selphie put her feet on his leg and it caused him to flinch. He shifted in his seat. Selphie saw him steal a glance, but he didn’t do anything else. She almost screamed right then and there, screamed _why?_ She almost spoke of all the things that she was trying to keep inside, but no – she wasn’t drunk enough yet.

Selphie drank silently, quickly making her way down to the bottom quarter of the bottle. By then, she was already more than halfway drunk and her thought processes and emotions, together, had created a warzone. But it wasn’t her fight with herself, it seemed, or not with herself alone.

“What’s on your mind?” she asked.

“Nothing.”

“Well, I dunno what they did to you, but gotta say, your lying is a lot worse than it used to be.”

He clenched his teeth. She saw it and took a swig.

“So what’s on your mind, General?”

Squall flinched, “Please... can’t we just sit here?”

“I’ve been sitting here since I got back. From the looks of it, you’re about two seconds away from making yourself a nest here.”

“Don’t. Please just... don’t.”

Selphie set the bottle down and took her feet off of his leg.

“Squall, talk to me. Please. Do anything you want, say anything you want – you used to, remember? Just don’t shut me out like this.”

Squall’s hands curled into fists.

“Is it because of what I did..?” she asked.

Selphie felt the alcohol begin to drain from her bloodstream as his face shifted into an expression of absolute shock.

“What you did..?”

“I left you behind.” Selphie said, “I abandoned you. Hell, I didn’t just abandon you – I wrote you off as a casualty. I believed you were dead. Heh, I even mourned you... I never thought to go back. I just wrote you off and decided you were gone.”

Squall noticed quiet tears running down her cheeks.

“I just... I just saw her standing there and... Brea put me to sleep and carried me out... we were already away, we had lost and I thought I had lost you and I made myself believe it. If it wasn’t for Brea, you wouldn’t even be sitting here, Hyne...” she sobbed, “I am so sorry... I’m so, so sor...”

“No.”

Squall stood up and left. Selphie buried her face in her hands and cried.

* * *

Brea opened her door to find her General, wearing an old t-shirt and jeans, standing outside her room.

“S-sir?”

“May I come in?”

“S-sure...”

Squall came in and headed straight for the armchair by the balcony. Brea, standing there in shorts and a loose-fitting t-shirt, felt absolutely naked. She felt the same tension from the night before, only a lot more focused now that she knew nobody else was following him.

“Sit.” He said. It was an invitation, not an order. Brea did so.

“So.” Squall said, “Tell me about him.”

Brea didn’t quite know where to start, or how. He was expecting an answer, and she suspected that this wasn’t for her benefit. Still, she hadn’t told anyone about Jake, anyone at all. Even after all this time, it was a painful memory, bundled in the warmth it brought and how deep it cut, how much it bled out when reopened.

“Sir, I...”

“Please, Brea.”

Brea bit her lower lip. Then again, maybe it was time.

“His name was Jake." she said, feeling the warmth of him, fainter now but still lingering, in her heart, "He was from Cupola.”

“He was a Galbadian?”

“Yes.”

“What did he specialize in?”

“He was a sharpshooter. A pinhead. Do you know the term?”

Squall nodded. “20/12 vision.”

Brea nodded.

“We met on the range.”

Brea told him. She told him how they had struck up their first conversation about the rarity of pinheads, which had then moved unto different gun models, and from that to music, SeeD, the Shumi Tribe. Jake wasn’t a very religious man, she said, but he did like to pray and knew the scriptures and the legends of Vascaroon very well.

As she talked, her tongue eventually loosened and she started to fill her story with all the intimate details she believed she had forgotten. It all came rushing back to her – the smells, the sights, the warmth of their secret places throughout the Garden, the biting cold of Trabia, the constant cleaning of each other’s equipment and all of their in-jokes, their private language. She didn’t feel naked anymore, she was stripping naked for him in her speech, baring everything.

And eventually, tears began to fall as she remembered all the other things, all the details she had lost when the Atrocity had taken him from her. His gentle eyes, the way his laughter rumbled in the air, his slender fingers, the scarf that he wore inside his uniform, his constant complaining of the Trabian cold, their dreams together of finding enough time off to enjoy a few weeks in Cupola, maybe next summer...

Brea choked at that point. She was eventually reduced to tears. Unable to go on, she simply let it pour out. Squall silently watched her cry. When she stopped, when she held back her tears and composed herself, Squall thanked her. She didn’t know how to take it, so he rose up, thanked her once more and got out.

He pressed his back to the door and sighed. He felt tired. So tired.

_But I’m not done... am I?_


	6. Trace Elements

Rinoa dipped her paintbrush into the bucket. The paint was a concoction, brought togetherby mixing trace elements of different creatures together and pouring them in with equal amounts of paint. It took longer to dry and drawing on the ceiling had been a difficult feat, but with every rune she had painted, she had felt the ingredients’ power increasingly permeating through the narrow hallway leading to the panic room.

She felt like she was slowly being charged with energy.

The hallway had been cold when she had started to draw the runes, but now, it was very warm. She had come down wearing boots, overalls and a sweatshirt, but now she was down to just the overalls, and them, only to avoid getting the paint on her body. The stone under her bare feet felt welcoming, like soft soil on a sunny day.

She brushed a stray strand of hair away from her eye and returned to completing the rune. Two carefully-drawn lines sealed it and she withdrew the brush. She stepped back and admired her handiwork. Three, evenly-spaced rune-strings, drawing circles from the ground, up and down the walls and on the ceiling were in place. All she had left to do was to paint the connecting runes onto the ground and the field she was trying to establish would be complete.

Rinoa knelt down and began to draw.

* * *

Irvine entered Rinoa’s office and found it empty. Her new desk, a shinier piece of furniture against the backdrop of relics from her father, had nothing but the bare necessities of her office on it. Irvine took off his greatcoat and slung it over one of the guest chairs. He looked around as he unbuttoned his jacket and saw that the door leading to the tunnels and the panic room was wide open.

He went down to the tunnels and found the door to the panic room. He went through it and descended the flight of steps. He found a pile of clothes on the ground: a sweatshirt, a t-shirt, a bra, socks and boots.

Rinoa, wearing nothing but overalls, was on her knees with a paint brush in one hand. Her raven hair was pulled into a tight ponytail. She was humming a melody while she drew.

He stood there, silently watching her as she went at it, not wanting to disturb her. He contented himself with admiring the view. There was something about how she was down that emanated pure sex – the stray strands of hair sticking out of her head, her bare back bending slightly, the dust clinging to the soles of her feet, the slight hum in her voice... how absorbed she was into what she was doing. Despite the effort of Dollet still clinging to him, he couldn’t help but feel fixated.

Rinoa drew one final curve and then rose up. She cocked her head sideways to observe it. “What do you think, lover?” she asked.

Irvine smiled.

“Well, what is it?” he asked.

Rinoa turned to him and carefully stepped over the middle line. She hopped over the one closest to him and got to his side.

“It’s one big rune string.” She said "Made of rune strings."

“You have to assume that I’m not a sorceress, or that I don’t know that much about black magic.”

“It’s like a spell. It’s just not junctioned yet.” She said, smiling, “It’s waiting to be.”

Irvine put his arms around her waist and pulled her closer. They kissed, but before he could get into it, she withdrew.

“So...” Irvine said, deciding to go with it, “What’s the spell for?”

“Do you know what the Guardian Force are?”

“Failed the class. Enlighten me.”

“They are three things, mainly. Avatars of elements, manifestations of chaos and finally, the aspects of Hyne.”

“Aspects of Hyne?”

“Alexander, Siren, Bahamut and Carbuncle.”

“Huh... guess it makes sense.” He said.

“But there is another kind. A different kind. It is the manifestation of black magic. A sorceress’ Guardian Force.”

“Like Ultimecia’s?”

“Sort of, but Ultimecia stole the idea from Squall, so it wasn’t really hers.”

“Wait, did you say... what do you mean she stole the idea from Squall?”

Rinoa planted a gentle kiss on his nose and withdrew. He let her go.

“Yes, that’s right.” She said.

“How? And how do you know that?”

“I glimpsed it in his mind.”

“His mind..? Rin, seriously-“

“I _am_ serious, lover.”

Irvine raised an eyebrow, “What were you doing in there?”

“Nothing bad, I promise.” She said playfully, “I was just trying to test something, to see if the connection between a sorceress her knight, as all the books I’ve read before or then said, was as strong as they claimed. A few texts said that sorceresses unconsciously attune themselves to their knights. I had no idea what I was doing, of course. I was all over the place, and that’s when I just sort of... stumbled, upon a memory.”

“A memory?”

“It was the nesting ground of a GF that was no longer there, and it was badly damaged, incomplete, parts of it warped beyond recognition...”

“What did it show you?”

“That on some random day when he was a kid, Squall and one of his childhood friends found a dying Guardian Force on the beach.”

“I don’t remember that. Was it Zell or Seifer? Selphie, maybe?”

“Say, Irvy, let me ask you something. Do you remember Daniel?”

“Daniel? Who the hell is Daniel?”

Rinoa smiled. “The friend in the memory.”

Irvine’s brow creased as he spun the gears on his memory and tried to fit the name to a face, an event, a mention, anything... nothing.

“I don’t remember anyone named Daniel, Rin.”

“And your memory is the most intact.” Rinoa said, “Squall didn’t remember either. At least, not until I accidentally triggered the memory.”

Irvine sighed. He didn’t understand this at all.

“So what does all this have to do with anything?” he asked.

“I’m going to create my own Guardian Force.”

Irvine’s eyes widened, with shock as well as a sudden rush of fear.

“You... say what?”

Rinoa nodded, “That’s what the rune strings are for. They aren’t really for the creation process, they are to contain it, to help me junction it. After that, I’ll surpass my predecessor... or successor. Depending on where you're look at it from.”

“Ultimecia.” Irvine said.

“That’s right.”

“But...”

Irvine felt his skin crawl. He leapt to the only conclusion available and felt absolutely violated. What if Matron had hidden a GF in his mind too? What if all this time, memories of Daniel and Hyne knew what else had been swallowed by it? He frantically tried to recall intimate details about random events, intricacies that he was sure he should have remembered. As if sensing his distress, Rinoa put a hand on his scarred cheek, making him shiver.

“You don’t have one.” She said.

“How do you know?”

“I checked, just to be sure.”

He didn’t know whether he should be glad, or that he should be angry. What else did she know?

“What else did you...” he began, but she put one finger on his lips and silenced him.

“Nothing." she said, "Nothing else. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Irvine wasn’t so sure.

She pulled him closer by the lapel of his jacket and rose to the tips of her toes to kiss him.

“I won’t hurt you, you know that.” She said.

“I know.”

“...well, not unless you want me to.”

Irvine couldn’t help but smile. Her hands were all over him, lazily roaming until they slid into the shoulders of his jacket and slipped it off.

“Here?” Irvine asked.

“Where better?” she asked.

“Well...”

“Hush, lover.” Rinoa said, putting a finger to his lips, “Don’t speak.”

* * *

In an instant, their silence turned into a fevered rush. She pressed up against him, fingers working his belt as he, unbuttoned his shirt, one button at a time. As he took a moment to slide his shirt off and get out of his undershirt, Rinoa stepped out of her overalls. She helped him out his boots and his boxer shorts and quickly had him on his back on the cold stone floor.

She climbed on top of him and licked his neck, making him shiver. She gradually worked her way down, her warmth slowly sliding off of him and stopped when she reached her destination. He was as hard as he had ever been, and her fingers gently curled around his shaft. He gasped as she took him into her mouth and slid him down, her tongue sending shivers down his spine.

She didn’t prolong it. Despite his unvoiced protestations, after just a few minutes, she let him go and climbed back up. Before he could do anything, she reached down and gently guided him in. He groaned as she slid down and rose his hips to meet her. She rose up, fingernails scratching his chest, and began to ride him, slowly, almost at an agonizing pace, making him feel each movement, each muscle flexing.

He reached out and grabbed her by the hips. She immediately grabbed his wrists and he understood – this was hers. She would be setting the pace.

Irvine went with it, he closed his eyes, felt her warmth and enjoyed it.

Further down the hall, the runes were glowing a pale blue, pulsating to the rhythm of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter we see the more seductive aspects of black magic and one of the main reasons why having power corrupts Sorceresses. The sheer weight of their power is way too tempting to not use and the feeling that they get out of it is, as demonstrated, positively intoxicating. I of course wanted an element of sex to be involved, because passion had to be there for someone to undertake such a monumental task of creating a Guardian Force.
> 
> As for how Rinoa is able to do that: remember, as stated in "The Few Remaining Strands" that Ultimecia and Edea, together, improvised Griever, created it out of nothing and placed it in Squall's mind. I do believe that within the world of FFVIII, Sorceresses powerful enough as Ultimecia can actually create Guardian Forces... which is actually a hint as to how the transfer of Sorceress' powers works, i.e. the succession of witches.


	7. Radio Silence

Ellone found Squall in one of the guest lounges, sitting by himself under the dim, orange lights. It was a rectangular room that had elongated couches lining both walls, and an elongated, plastiglass coffee table in between to match. The far wall was a window of reinforced glass overlooking one of the courtyards of the Presidential Palace. Squall was sitting there, with his back turned to the soothing view through the window. Ellone approached, treading lightly, as if afraid to stir him, but he didn’t react at all.

Both put off and encouraged by his non-response, Ellone went and sat down right next to him. She glanced outside, and saw the city lights of Esthar in the distance, glowing. She caught her own reflection in the window.

“You don’t even say hello?” she asked.

It seemed to snap him out of whatever trance he had been in. When he turned to her, his eyes were warm and familiar.

“Sorry... hello, Sis. I’m sorry, my mind was... elsewhere.”

“I can see that.” Ellone said with a half-smile, “So, where have you been all evening?”

“Here.”

“And why are you here, Squall?”

“It’s quiet here. It’s away from..." ghost of pain on his face, for barely a moment, "It’s nice. I like it. I can think clearly here.”

“So tell me, what’s on your mind, then?”

Something went through him and Ellone saw him suddenly section himself off.

“It’s nothing.” he said.

Ellone sighed. This wasn’t going to be easy.

“Squall, they’re worried about you. All of them.”

“They don’t need to be.”

“That’s easy for you to say, you have the luxury of knowing where you are what you are thinking.”

Squall glared at her, confused.

“What I’m saying is, little brother, people can’t tell what’s going on inside you unless you tell them. The more you leave them in the dark, the more distracted they’ll be.”

“Distracted..?”

“To quote Uncle Laguna, Squall, we _are_ at war.”

“...I know that.”

“You are the SeeD General. The rest of the Ocean Garden is sitting there, waiting. I don’t mean to put you on the spot, but they’re all waiting for you.”

“It’s... it’s difficult.” Squall said, “It used to be easier.”

“What used to be easier?”

“This. Being here, just... everything’s too rough. The lights are too sharp, too bright... surfaces too cold. Even the water feels like tiny pieces of glass pouring down. Everything’s hell-bent on making it to the next minute, and the next one, and the one after that, and it goes on and on and on and if it would just stop for one fucking minute, maybe I could find a way through, but it doesn’t stop, it doesn’t let up... and Selphie... Hyne, she thinks I’m punishing her. She thinks I blame her. I don’t... how can I? She’s precious to me, more than I can say.”

Ellone, taken aback but listening, interrupted him: “Don’t tell me. Tell her.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not? I think I am entitled to the answer to that question as much as she is.”

“I’m...” Squall took a deep breath, “I’m ashamed.”

Ellone felt confusion eradicate every other thought. She had expected many things, speculated on what was making him tick since the panic room but she had never considered shame.

“What?” she could let out, “What are you ashamed of..?”

“I can’t...” he said, and stood up, “I just fucking can’t.”

Ellone could only stare on after him as he walked away, leaving her with her thoughts. She didn’t have very long, as barely a minute after Squall left, Advisor Kiros walked into the lounge.

“Elle! There you are.”

“Mr. Kiros? How did you... were you looking for me?”

“Yes. Come with me.”

Ellone stood up and followed him out to the hallway. Kiros led, navigating the corridors he knew intimately, and Ellone followed, matching her steps to his.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“A new development.”

“Something good?”

Kiros sighed, “Is it ever?”

* * *

Ward had gotten over his inability to speak a long time ago. It was a nuisance at times, yes, but with Kiros there to take an educated, well-aimed guess every time he tried to say something, he hadn’t needed to. He knew the Estharian variant of the sign language, and so did the entire Palace staff, and he got by just fine and could breeze through his days.

However, sitting in Laguna’s bedroom, watching him circle the carpet and throw half-finished sentences and semi-thoughts out there, just before cursing and returning to the pacing made him wish he could speak – if he could, he would then tell Laguna to stop and calm the fuck down.

“I swear, this is...” Laguna said and left the sentence hanging.

Ward stood up, determined that finally, after all these years, he was going to strangle this man in front of him. He had taken his first step forward when the door opened, letting Kiros and Ellone in. Ward hid his hands in the sleeves of his robes and contented himself in knowing that finally, they could get something done.

Ellone moved out of the way and put some distance between herself and the three soldiers.

“So?” Laguna asked.

“It’s confirmed. Total radio silence.”

“Total? Seriously?”

Kiros nodded.

“Either nobody’s broadcasting anything in Galbadia, or we aren’t receiving them. In both cases, this smells like a communications blackout.”

Ward sighed.

“Alright, that’s it.” Laguna said, “Wait just a second.”

Laguna went to his study desk and picked up the phone. He dialed a number and waited, tapping his foot as he did.

“Hello, El? Sorry to disturb you at this hour, but I need you to do something for me... okay, relay this message to the members of the parliament. Message begins: Members of the Parliament, in light of recent developments, as President of Esthar, I am calling the Parliament into session at 900 hours tomorrow. Message ends. Make sure everyone gets this.”

Laguna put the phone down. He ran a hand through his hair.

“The Parliament?” Ellone asked.

“Yes.” Laguna said, “I didn’t think we’d run out of options this fast, but we have.”

“What’s the plan?” Kiros asked, “Make the rounds in one fell swoop?”

“No. I’m going to ask them to yield emergency powers to me.”

Kiros and Ward both whistled in surprise. Ward grunted and Kiros spoke:

“That’s a tough sell, even with what happened in Dollet, or tonight... because they know right from the off what you’re going to do with the powers you acquire. You can’t be sure that they’ll approve of your intentions.”

“Truth be told, I was hoping that Rinoa was right, that I can be persuasive when I want to be.”

Ward shook his head.

“Alright." Kiros said, "So how exactly are you going to sell the parliament off on the idea of total war?”

“However I can.”

“Laguna...”

“I don’t have much of a plan, man, I’m just trying to stay afloat here.”

“Uncle Laguna..?” Ellone asked, hesitant.

“Yes, Elle?”

“Why am I here? I mean, I don’t know much about any of this political stuff.”

Laguna smiled sheepishly, “Oh... yeah, I... almost forgot. I arranged a hovercraft for you.”

Ellone raised an eyebrow, “A hovercraft? Why?”

“I want you to be somewhere safe, Elle. It’s not here.”

Ellone hung her head. She had heard this sentence before, and it meant that Uncle Laguna could not be persuaded otherwise.

“And where am I going?”

“Centra, but not to the orphanage. We evacuated that. We're taking you to the White SeeD ship. That's where the Kramers are.”

“Okay." Ellone said, "I’ll just go and pack up.”

Laguna went to her and gave her a hug.

“I don’t want anything to happen to you.” he said.

“I know, Uncle Laguna.”

“Go.”

Ellone left the room, leaving Laguna with Kiros and Ward.

“You sure this’ll work?” Kiros asked.

“We don’t have a choice, man.” Laguna said, “We just don’t have a choice anymore.”


	8. Prime and Load

Irvine slowly got dressed. He first put on his white shirt and buttoned it up. Then he put on his pants, the rough feeling of serge wool betraying how comfortable they actually were. His jack boots, which he now found very comfortable, followed. He slid on his jacket and buttoned it up, and shrugged a few times to adjust himself. When he was ready, he went to the mirror to see what he looked like. Immediately, the scars lining half of his face caught his eye. With one finger, he traced the lines sunken into his cheeks... _today,_ he thought, _all debts are paid._

Rinoa, by his side, was standing in her underwear, a black dress slung over her am and black flats in her hand. She came over to him and wrapped her free arm around him.

“The helicopter’s waiting.” He said.

“Let them wait.” Rinoa answered, “I want to enjoy this.”

“Is everything ready?”

“What’s your hurry?" Rinoa asked, one finger lazily circling around his chest, "We still have a couple of minutes...”

“I know, I just... I want to get started.”

Rinoa sighed contentedly.

“You know, I blame the wine.” She said.

Irvine smiled. “I kinda blame the wine too.”

“Would you do everything you’ve done, if you knew it’d be like this..?”

“The first lesson you learn as a sharpshooter is that once you pull the trigger, there is no way of stopping the bullet. What you do or think before pulling the trigger doesn’t matter. What matters is that you be ready for what will happen once you do.”

“And... were you?”

“What’s the sudden second-guessing, Rin?”

“We already pulled the trigger, lover. Just wanted to see if you were all set.”

“Maybe just one more thing’s missing.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“A kiss for luck.”

Rinoa grinned. “Happy to oblige.”

* * *

Laguna buttoned his jacket and adjusted his tie before proceeding to the podium. He could that swear he could hear his footsteps on the hard wood echoing in the grave silence of the parliament’s chambers. The four steps it took for him to reach the microphone felt more like a mile-long death march. For the first time in his entire career as the president, Laguna faced the parliament and found not the jury-of-his-peers ready to pass judgment at the slightest provocation, but an audience to what he had to say.

Deep breath.

“I’m sure you have all heard by now. President Heartilly issued a 24-hour notice to the Balamb Training Facility, telling them to surrender. It is clear that she intends to pursue this aggressive strategy and, it isn’t inconceivable that she will be coming on our doorstep next. She has already claimed to have uncovered evidence that Esthar was supporting quote-unquote _terrorist groups_ in their endeavors against her so-called unified Galbadia. Yesterday evening, Galbadian news outlets fell to silence, and communications report that their signals are being jammed. We have to assume that it’s a press blackout. If I may be blunt...”

“Please do.” an MP said, inducing a round of nervous chuckles.

Laguna allowed a half-smile. “Rinoa’s ready for war. The question is: are we?”

“This isn’t a new question.” The Minister of the Interior said, “What does the Chief of General Staff say?”

“The Chief of General Staff says that the president’s question isn’t if we can go to war.” Mir said.

“Then what does the president want to ask us?” the Minister of Foreign Affairs asked.

Laguna braced himself.

“I would like to formally request the parliament’s permission to assume emergency powers.”

Sighs and murmurs of resignation followed.

“The Ministry of Foreign affairs wants to know, Mr. President. What do you intend to do, exactly?”

“Well, minister, it is clear that we can’t avoid direct conflict. It’s also clear that President Heartilly intends to come for us, and soon. With your permission, I will begin by declaring a state of emergency. Then, I will assume the control of the military and with the aid of Ocean Garden and SeeD, I will embark on a campaign that aims primarily to occupy Deling City and, bluntly put, kill the sorceress.”

“And you believe that you can?” an MP asked.

“Can what, minister?”

“Kill the sorceress.”

“With the entirety of the Ocean Garden at our disposal, and no incentive to hold back at all, I don’t think it’ll be outside the realm of possibility.” Laguna said.

The Ministers exchanged glances. There was some hushed exchange of words, but nothing overt and nothing that gave away any of their thoughts or opinions. Laguna shook with the terrible possibility that his request might be denied.

“We’ll put it to a vote.” The Minister of the Interior said, “All in favor of granting the president emergency powers until the end of the current conflict?”

The entire chamber voiced a hearty ‘aye.’

“I hope you will be able to do all you have just told us you would, Mister President.”

Laguna hoped that he would be able, as he was willing and almost ready. Almost.

* * *

Once Deling City had disappeared over the horizon, Irvine picked up the mobile comcaster. There was a small cut-out section exposing the wires moving to the router, which was attached to the top of the device, that needed to be switched on separately. He turned both on and toggled with the frequencies until he reached the desired one.

“G-Missile Base, come in, G-Missile Base, this is the Field Marshal, over.”

Static.

“ _This is G-Missile Base. You are broadcasting on a secure frequency. What is your clearance? Over.”_

“Clearance Level Omega-Angel. Over.”

Static again.

_“Confirmed. What can we do for you, Field Marshal Kinneas? Over.”_

Irvine felt the weapon in his hand. _Prime and load,_ he thought.

“Commence Operation: Blitz. Over.”

_“Uhh... could you confirm that, sir – did you say commence Operation: Blitz? Over.”_

“Confirmed. Over.”

Static.

_“Understood. Operation: Blitz is go. Hyne be our guide. Over.”_

“Over and out.”

Irvine shut off the comcaster and leaned back, content in having just pulled the trigger.


	9. C-Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> C-Day: "Commencement Day. When the deployment for an operation commences."

Irvine found a retinue of four soldiers and Doctor Odine waiting for him when his helicopter landed into Galbadia Garden’s hangar. The helicopter’s engines hadn’t even completely died down when Odine came staggering towards him.

“Doctor.” Irvine said, without breaking stride. The soldiers flanked them and followed in step. When Odine spoke, his voice mixed in with the howling of the hangar space.

“Field Marshal, you’re a reasonable man.” he said.

Irvine nodded, “I would like to think so, yes.”

“Why am I still here?”

“You work here.”

“I don’t need to be in ze Garden when zis starts.”

“When what starts? What gave you the impression that something was starting?”

“I... why else are you...”

“Relax, I know you’ve been monitoring our transmissions.”

The double blast doors of the hangar opened and let them into the hallway. Odine continued to follow, his hands going in every direction, extruding panic:

“I did what you asked of me. I did what I could. Your requests are all ready, some enhancements were made... I don’t want to be in the center of the conflict.”

The corridor ended with an elevator. One of the soldiers called it. Irvine kept on a mask of carelessness as Odine continued to go a million miles a minute.

“I don’t see ze point! I did my job! What good will come of me staying here? I’m not good to you dead.”

“That, I’ll have to agree with.” Irvine said as the elevator doors slid open. He stepped in, and the others followed. “But the fact of the matter is, Doctor, you’re staying put.”

“Why!? For Hyne’s sake, why!?”

“Because that’s what your employer has decided. End of discussion.”

Odine scoffed at him. “I work for you, but I’m not your slave.”

“No. You’re not. But the agreement you have with us says you do what we want, when we want it, how we want it, and that’s it. You lent us your knowledge about Estharian technologies and your scientific expertise in general, and we put you to work building, as much as you can, the war machine of Galbadia Garden.”

“There iz only so much I can do in just a few weeks...”

“Not the point.”

The elevator stopped and the doors let them out to the hallway leading to Galbadia Garden’s bridge.

“What is important, Doctor, is that you are where Rinoa wants you to be. I don’t think there needs to be any more discussion about where you’d rather be.”

Irvine gestured at two of the soldiers by his side to move to Odine’s.

“They’ll escort you back to your lab. You really should get the Shocktroopers spooled up.”

Odine looked at Irvine with utter disbelief for a few moments. Then, shrugging angrily, he turned and stomped towards the elevator, Irvine’s soldiers in tow. The hall Irvine continued down ended in double blast doors. The doors opened, revealing the bridge of Galbadia Garden.

The bridge was a circular room. In the middle of it, was the tactical console – a smooth, horizontal space containing basic combat imaging, Garden statistics, comm-channels and the like. The far end of the room was one big glass panel, covering a panorama that was at least the quarter of the room itself. The further panels had one weapons console and two navigations consoles. Otherwise, the room was a mess of different stations tracing the curves of the room.

Two of Irvine’s lieutenants were waiting for him. Upon his approach they saluted him, which he returned with a casual wave. Once he had both hands on the console, feeling its slick, plasticine surface, Irvine took a deep breath.

_Fire._

“Zonn, Claire, how’s the engines?”

“They’re ready, Field Marshal.” Claire said.

“Everyone’s contained? Are we all ready?”

“The light is green, sir.” Zonn said.

“Get us mobile and take us out of here.” Irvine said, “Our destination: Deling City.”

* * *

Rinoa descended the stairs leading to the hallway of the panic room. Once there, she neatly folded her clothes and placed them on the ground. She took off her underwear and added them to the pile. Now naked, she felt absolutely liberated and anxious. The warmth permeating through the site of her ritual made her shiver with excitement. She carefully stepped over the first rune-string and went to stand directly on top of the middle ring. The runes began to glow, pulsating lazily, as she lowered herself down and crossed her legs.

Even when idle, the power resonating in the enclosure made her shiver in delight. Her whole body was gently vibrating.

She closed her eyes and began.

Rinoa delved into her memory in order to find a place to nest her GF in. Random recollections flashed in her mind, giving her split-second eternities contained in them and disappearing back into the stream. The day she had almost caught a Chicobo in the forest when she was eight. One of her parents’ fights, the evening where she had learned what the word ‘inappropriate’ meant (it was something they both had and could rub off on her.)

Her mother’s funeral. No.

Fond memories of Seifer, that stray summer when she had learned all about the others. Better memories of seeing that piece of shit for what he was.

The inevitability of Squall Leonhart. Him and-

There it was. Sweet, tender, disgusting, useless and suited for nothing better than to be devoured as her Guardian Force’s offering. The shooting range and her father’s constant hovering presence, a bundle of close scrutiny and imminent disapproval.

Rinoa tried to picture it. What it would be like. What it would sound like. How big it would be, what it would embody, what it would be able to do. How it would feel like at the tips of her fingers, how it’d feel like inside her breath. Images, thoughts and emotions fired off in all directions, pulling her into a maze of details, big and small, and Rinoa let herself be immersed in this feeling.

She felt her toes curl, her mouth open slightly. Her eyelashes fluttered and she felt her breath grow heavy.

It was raw energy: surging through her, filling every crevice inside her, filling all the blanks in her being with focused, delightful, wonderful pulse of intangible desire and an impossible fulfillment. Somewhere far off, Rinoa heard a light moan escape her lips and she rode the wave of that subtle sound down, down into the darkness waiting for her. The pitch-black wrapped itself around her and held her tight, whispering promises of more, of an endless string of mores – there were no limits, no lines in the sand, no borders...

In the heart of the darkness, she could hear the beating of wings, soaring over the gleaming, cold-hearted sound of sliding blades.

* * *

Selphie entered her room to find Squall in the balcony. The faint cloud of steam issuing from the bathroom told her that he had taken a shower. She bit her lower lip, hesitant. She had a clear idea of how little he wanted to be pressured. Whatever it was, whatever it had been, he obviously wasn’t comfortable sharing – nobody had gotten anything out of him. From what Brea had told her, Squall had only gone to his aide to ask her about her past, not to spill his guts.

But there was the other side of the coin. They were still at war, and from what Laguna had told her, it was just about to take a turn for the worse. They were needed. SeeD was needed.

SeeD didn’t explicitly need a single man in command. The veterans, such as herself, could easily compartmentalize their forces and lead them. They would serve just as good a man as him. Squall Leonhart’s skills as a tactician were not a factor in why they needed him.

For herself, she needed him because of herself. There was nothing complicated about it, nothing too difficult to explain. Maybe she loved him for him, maybe she loved him for her, but she definitely needed him for herself. But if she put herself aside, SeeD needed him. Aside from everything else, he wasn’t just a name or a rank. To the lower-ranking SeeD and cadets, he was a concept, an idea – the Hero of the Second Sorceress War. Having him there completed the Ocean Garden, it completed SeeD.

_And, let’s face it... he completes you, too._

Selphie stepped onto the balcony and leaned on the rails. She remembered being in this exact position long ago. Like most other things, it had worked then and worked in a degree even she hadn’t suspected at the time. She even questioned why it had, sometimes.

So why not? She had tried everything else.

“Not that I mind sharing,” Selphie said, “But a girl needs her own brooding space... and this balcony isn’t big enough for the both of us.”

Squall was silent.

“What’s on your mind, General?”

“Nothing.”

“We talked about this, remember? About the lying?”

Squall gave her a sideways glance, “How can you even tell?”

“You might find this hard to believe and all, but I actually kinda know you. Despite everything, I still do.”

“I guess that’s true.”

He hesitated. She sensed it, but avoided pressing it.

“The truth is, Selphie, I...”

Squall’s head jerked forward as he suddenly focused onto something. Selphie followed his gaze to the Esthar City skyline but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary, just the morning sky. What was he-

There. In line with the clouds, a twinkle, like a piece of a big mirror had just reflected light, just for a second. There was a dot there now, suspended in the air. Maybe a hovercraft.

“Is that...” Squall asked, squinting, “...is that coming closer?”

Selphie focused onto the point. As it did draw closer, she saw that there was more than one dot. Whatever it was, it was headed straight for them.

“It’s headed this way, yeah...” Selphie said.

Squall reached for her and grabbed her by the wrist, shouting:

“We have to go. We have to go!”

Selphie wrenched her wrist away from him, but followed him into the room instead. They went out to the hallway, quick on their feet, but didn't make it that far before an explosion tore apart the wall behind them. The impact threw both off their feet. Selphie bounced off a wall and fell, face-down. Squall simply lost his balance and when he tried to stand up, he failed. His senses were all over the place, and they were refusing to converge on the here and the now.

There was a ringing in his ears, a ringing that he remembered well.

He looked ahead and saw that not five feet from him, Selphie lay. Time became irrelevant as he inched forward, crawling on all fours, up to her, up to her body... she was so still... so...

“No...” he felt the word vibrate in his throat, and heard nothing but the infernal, high-pitched ringing, “No... Selphie... _Selphie!_ ”


	10. The Blitz

Above Esthar City, the invisible honeycomb shield fluttered as the Galbadian missiles penetrated it with ease, the contact points causing ripples in the air. The missiles, rotating slightly, quickly dispersed upon reaching a certain height and scattered, each one heading towards their individual targets.

Three missiles flew, forming a straight line, for the Presidential Palace. They kept this formation until they detonated, unleashing a lethal volley of mini-missiles along the length of the Palace, each one randomly changing altitude and exploding in the building’s flank – a few lucky ones flew in through open windows and detonated inside.

Three missiles, holding a triangle pattern, headed straight for the city center, catching the attention of the more attentive citizens below along the way and relentlessly pursuing their targets. Five seconds to detonation, two of the missiles broke formation and flew in two separate directions. The singular, determined missile exploded mid-air, releasing a hail of mini-missiles to fall onto those watching with awe... watching their end rain from the skies.

The mini-missiles exploded in machine-gun precision, tearing apart concrete, plastiglass, metal alloys, cloth, flesh and bone, incinerating everything in a series of spreading, small explosions. They were accompanied by the two straying missiles that showered the citizens of Esthar and the odd SeeD below them with the same explosive death they had packed inside. In little more than two seconds, Esthar City center lit up in flying debris and bodies.

A pair of missiles flew down side-by-side until they suddenly separated and flew in a reverse-V, both headed for the two comm-towers rising in the city skyline. Both missiles scored direct hits, demolishing the comm-centers at the bases of the towers – the towers toppled not long after, falling in graceful arcs down to the buildings underneath them, trapping unfortunate souls inside under debris.

Four missiles veered sharply North Westward, tearing through the air and racing with each other to the Parliament Building. Upon approach, they started to spiral around each other, following a graceful flight pattern until they reached their targeted distance. The missiles rose directly into the air and scattered upon the tipping point – they drew downwards tangents leading unto the same convergence point, and once their paths converged, the rain of mini-missiles crushed the domed building down, reducing it quickly to low walls barely holding up some of the crashing debris.

Other missiles, with their non-specific targets, chose their directions at random, a good portion of them detonating and drilling holes in the empty spaces of Nortes Mountains – a few even flew into the Sollet Lake. Those that had missed any worthwhile target detonated mercifully in remote locations, unable to harm anyone.

Those watching from the Ocean Garden stood silent and dumbstruck, each remembering the sight they were seeing from the mixture of their memories and their fears. Those who had been there during the Second War recalled the first time the Garden had become mobile; those who had been there during the Trabian Atrocity recalled their home being reduced to ashes; those who had been in the Garden during the ocean disaster recalled the starting point of what their lives had become as of late.

Xu, watching from the bridge, immediately sprang to action and ordered five separate squads to take hovercrafts and find their commanders. She clenched her fists and cursed the sense of urgency that she knew would take over for the conceivable future. Nida, in his corner, started to spool up the engines of the Ocean Garden, a move that earned him the eternal devotion of a very exasperated Xu.

And in the corridors of the Presidential Palace, Selphie Tilmitt opened her eyes... and changed everything.


	11. Resurrection

The ringing in his ear drowned out all other sounds, but his eyes could see clearly, and he was looking at the emerald green eyes he had lost himself in so many times before. Squall blinked. His balance was off and his senses were in complete disarray. The smell of dust was registering, almost overwhelming, but his brain was refusing to tell him why there was dust in the air.

“Selphie!” he heard the word vibrate in his throat, “Oh Hyne, Selphie! Come on!”

He took her into his arms and held her, as tightly as he could. He felt her breath on his shoulder, felt her heartbeat.

In her arms, Selphie tried to get a hold onto the world. She could hear sirens groaning in the distance, mixing in with the nearer sounds of screams. Squall was holding onto her for dear life, she found, and he was shaking... his shoulders... his voice, drowned out in the cloth of her jacket...

He was crying.

Selphie reached around him. Her fingers brushed across his head, feeling the extremely short strands of hair sting pleasantly. She held him as best as she could and closed her eyes for a second. It was familiar, this feeling, her perception of the moment.

There she was, holding him and the world was falling apart around them.

She forced herself to speak.

“Squall, shhh... hey. It’s me. Hey there, it’s alright. It’s alright, I’m not hurt.”

Squall withdrew. He wiped the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand. Selphie saw, just by looking at him then that everything had changed – suddenly, she was looking at the Squall that she knew and loved. He stood up and offered a hand. She took it, and he helped her stand.

“Squall...”

“We need to move.” Squall said, looking down the hall. The far end was blocked by debris, but luckily, they could still access the hallway curling to the right, “We need to find out what happened.”

“I don’t know. Missiles?”

“Maybe, but why didn’t the honeycomb shield...”

“Dr. Odine is on Rinoa’s side, remember?” Selphie said, rubbing her temple. She'd need a painkiller for that.

Squall shook his head. “It’s going to take a while to sort out, a while that we don’t have right now. Let’s go.”

He took off down the hall. Selphie followed him, unable to hold back a wide grin. Yes, this was familiar to her, familiar enough that she was sure she’d enjoy what was next.

* * *

Brea rushed out of her room, pistols in hand. She checked both sides of the hallway, guns ready. After seeing that it was clear, she holstered her pistols and pulled out the com-link. She clicked it on, and her first thought was to call Lieutenant General Tilmitt. She tried, but the com-link wasn’t working. She tried to call others, running down the entire list in a manner of seconds, which confirmed her thoughts: communications were down.

Brea felt her breath quicken. Her heart was pounding in her ears. Her hands felt cold. Something in her head was screaming, throwing split-second flashes of recollections onto her conscious mind, pulling her thoughts under. For a few moments, she was both in a classroom in Trabia Garden, trying to get her bearings after being turned around and in Ocean Garden, hugging her knees and praying on automatic, repeating the same mantra over and over again.

One memory broke through.

_Spell out your name._

B-R-E-A.

_Congratulations, you’re my new aide. Help me._

Brea took a deep breath and when she exhaled, she was calm.

Brea pocketed her com-link and drew one of her pistols before moving down the hall at a brisk pace. She resolved to find the exit as quickly as possible, and to assess the damage before doing anything else. She navigated the hallways naturally, remembering some from her half-drunken strolls and knowing where others went by all the times she had had to walk them.

Brea worked her way through to the elevators, hoping against hope that they were working. Two people were standing in front of the elevator, waiting. Their stillness almost made her laugh – everything had just gone to shit, what-

She recognized the woman, the chestnut hair cut in layers, who was standing there in full SeeD uniform. Next to her, wearing only jeans and a t-shirt, buzzcut hair barely covering his scalp...

“General!”

* * *

What frustrated Seifer wasn’t Quistis’ now-default pace, it was her insistence in walking by herself. With the Palace crumbling around them, the constant noise of cracking stone, breaking glass and falling masses of structure blaring in their ears, he knew that they had to reach the exit as soon as possible. Which would be sooner if she had just accepted his help.

Quistis clenched her teeth and bore it, cursing her inability to run, and grateful for the merciful ease of her cane. She was aware of Seifer’s frustration, but could do nothing about it, so she dismissed it for the time being.

Suddenly, Quistis stopped dead at her tracks. She stood looking at a room whose door had been splintered to pieces.

“Seifer, stop.”

Seifer stopped, three steps away.

“C’mon.” Quistis said and stepped into the room. It was a double-room that had half the space of their suites, but two beds instead. Its far wall, along with the balcony attached to it, was completely destroyed. Quistis made her way to the edge, followed by Seifer. Together, they surveyed the scene.

Esthar City was burning. Through their excellent view of the city, they could see various columns of smoke rising. From their vantage point, they could hear the faint echoes of panic traveling through the streets.

“Come on. Let’s try the elevators.” Quistis said and headed for the door. Seifer followed.

“What if they’re down?” Seifer asked.

“They’re called stairs, honey.”

Seifer kept his mouth shut and walked alongside her. It didn’t take them long to go through the undamaged parts of their floor and find their way to the elevator. Once at the end of the hallway leading to it, they saw that Selphie was already inside, and Squall and Brea were about to step in. Seifer was the one who called out.

“Hey, wait up!”

* * *

“General!”

Squall and Selphie both turned at the same time and saw Brea standing there, pistol in hand. Brea came up to them and saluted them both. Selphie returned the gesture, Squall simply nodded.

“Brea.” He said, “Are you okay? Are you injured?”

“No, sir.”

Brea heard her com-link bleep. Incoming transmission. She immediately pulled it out and put it to her ear.

_“Hello? Can you hear me?”_

“Yes! I can hear you! Who are you?”

_“Brea, is that you?”_

“Mister President?”

_“Could you give the com-link to my son, please?”_

“Yes, sir.”

Brea handed the com-link over.

“Father?”

_“Squall! Thank Hyne... are you guys okay?”_

“We’re fine. I haven’t heard from Seifer or Quistis.”

_“They’ll turn up, sooner or later. Listen, we’re in front of the Parliament building right now, looking for a car to jack so we can get to the barracks. What's your status?”_

“Right now, we're fine. I think our next step is is to get to the Garden.”

_“Okay. We’ll keep in contact. Keep in mind: some frequencies are still working.”_

“Noted. Over."

No sooner than Laguna had closed the connection that another one came through. Squall answered it.

“This is the General.”

_“General, thank Hyne. It’s Nida, listen – we just received a transmission from Deling City. It was addressed directly to you.”_

“What does it say?”

_“It says: Come and play.”_

Squall smiled. “Thanks. We’re at the Presidential Palace. Any chance of transport?”

_“We had three separate hovercrafts looking for you. I’ll redirect one.”_

Brea gestured that she wanted the com-link. Squall passed it to her.

“How are you still contacting us?" she asked, "I thought communications were down!”

_“There are auxiliary stations scattered across the city – it just took a while for them to kick in. Just find a way to get down to the main courtyard. They’ll pick you up.”_

“Yes, sir.”

Brea shut off the line. She pocketed her com-link. Mercifully, the elevators were still functional. The elevator doors hissed as they opened. Brea got in first, followed by Squall. Selphie was about to step inside when Seifer’s voice stopped her:

“Hey, wait up!”

* * *

Seifer and Quistis joined the others in front of the elevator. Selphie poked her head out the elevator and smiled upon seeing them in one piece.

“Glad you’re okay.” Squall said.

“We're glad we’re okay, too.” Seifer replied.

“Any terms of a plan?” Quistis asked.

Squall nodded, “We get down to the courtyard. The Garden’ll sent a hovercraft, they’ll be picking us up.”

“Communications are back up?” Quistis asked.

“Yeah.” Squall said, “So, you guys coming?”

“Sure.”

They stepped into the elevator. Brea tapped on the ground floor symbol on the touch-panel and the elevator started to descend, its downward movement as smooth as ever.

“Nice to have you back.” Quistis said to Squall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it may seem foolish to take the elevator while all this is going on, but given Quistis' condition, it is the quicker option, because with her leg, she could descend one step at a time (meaning she has to put one foot down, get both foot on the same step before going down.)


	12. M-Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> M-Day: "Mobilization Day."

The courtyard was a canvas – untouched by missiles but full of debris, chunks of masonry and thick shards of reinforced glass. They saw a few bodies also, broken over or under pieces of what used to be the wall, and each one muttered a silent prayer for it to have been quick for them. Under their breath, they counted them to be among the lucky ones – they were already dead, and didn’t have to launch headlong into whatever would come next.

With the exception of Brea, they all thought about Zell. By his hand or not, he was already in the Hall of Matryrs, resting, his name carved in stone. All they had done since, they felt, was to try and pick up the pieces and the courtyard seemed to taunt them.

Selphie’s fingers interlocked with Squall’s as they waited, and he squeezed, as if to reassure. Still listening to the sounds of mayhem, far and wee, they knew that they would have their time.

But, not today. This wasn't their hill to die on.

The whooshing sound of hovercraft engines drawing closer lifted everyone’s spirits, and before long, the hovercraft appeared above the courtyard. It rotated around its center as it descended, trying to find a length of space balanced enough for it to land. Unable to do so, the pilot instead resolved to open the side hatche and go as low as he could. Seifer and Squall helped Quistis on board, and Seifer followed her. Squall let Brea and Selphie get on before climbing in himself.

Squall settled in. Sitting across from him were Selphie and Brea, both trying to reel themselves in. He smiled.

“Hey!” he called to the pilot, “Take us home!”

The pilot nodded and the hovercraft rose into the air.

* * *

Squall slipped on the jacket of his uniform, feeling the epaulets carrying the General’s rank insignia weigh heavy on his shoulders. He decided not to button it up, to give himself a little extra freedom of movement. He went to his desk and pulled the drawer open.

Ellone’s comb was waiting for him on top of a pile of other things. From underneath the comb, Squall extracted his Griever necklace and put it on. Then, he reached in and his fingers slid along the edge of the comb.

“Are you ready?” Selphie's voice came.

Squall didn’t look up. He knew that she was standing there, and he felt that she deserved more than he had shared.

_Am I ready..? Maybe I am._

“I don’t know where I was.” He said, “But I was lost. I thought Rinoa had sent me back in time, somehow. I was in the panic room, she put me under, and I woke up to colliding with you in the hall.”

“Balamb Garden... when we first met.”

“You didn’t know me, you didn’t know us... you seemed different somehow. But it shifted. I closed my eyes and opened them to Dollet, to the field exam. I thought that sticking to the script, repeating my actions would suffice. It didn’t. The whole thing changed.”

“How?”

“You. The soldiers guarding the comm-tower saw you when you came to give us our orders.” He clenched his fist, “Shot you three times in the chest. You died in my arms.”

Selphie didn’t speak. Squal continued.

“And then I opened my eyes to the victory ball. You came over to ask me about the Garden Festival. Seifer walked in with a gun and started to shoot randomly. I tried to move you away, but upon seeing you, he turned and shot you. I couldn’t do anything... When I opened my eyes again, I was in that train, waiting to see that Vinzer Deling’s body double was a monster. He was, too, but he wasn’t the same one and he...” he clenched his teeth, “...there isn’t a word for what he did to you.”

He turned to look at her standing there, looked at the miracle of her.

“And it went on and on and on, iteration after iteration. My life... taken apart, broken down into bits and pieces, into separate events. My successes turned into failures and every time I failed, you suffered. Again and again, you suffered, and you died, and each time, I got closer to saving you, but I never could. Our second fight with Edea, Seifer got lucky before Quistis got him... he... sliced you open. You died screaming, trying to hold your guts inside your body and I couldn’t do anything, I just sat there, held you and you looked to me for help... Hyne...”

“It was just two weeks, how-“

“I was dreaming. Time moved differently. I wasn’t in there for two weeks, Selphie, I was in there for months... maybe even a few years, I don’t know... there was no way to tell.”

“Squall...”

“I failed. I failed and you paid for it.”

Squall felt her hand on his cheek. She gently turned his head, led him to face her.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I couldn’t face you.”

“It wasn’t even real. I’m here, see?” she gently caressed his face, “I’m right here. I’m alive.”

“I didn’t only fail. I failed them. I failed _you._ When it didn’t stop, when it never stopped, I... I killed you.”

Selphie wasn’t sure how she should take that.

“It was going to happen...” Squall said, trying to keep his voice from quivering, “There was no other way... at least that way you wouldn’t suffer, at least they wouldn’t get you... I didn’t know what else to do, I just... I couldn’t... I couldn’t...”

“Shhh...”

Selphie pulled him in for a kiss and silenced him. She felt his lips become her center and sighed, content. She could feel him relaxing, his tension slowly dissipating. She wrapped her arms around him and held him tightly.

When she withdrew, she kept her eyes in his.

“I’m still here. I’m alive. So stop torturing yourself. You didn’t fail me. Hell, I don’t think you’re quite capable of that. So, why don’t you come with me, upstairs? They’re waiting for you.”

Squall took a deep breath, and for a moment, he was the same man she had known and loved. She couldn’t help but smile.

“Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” she said.

“You don’t know the half of it.”

“So, General Leonhart... want to join the others? We have a war to fight.”

Squall smiled.

“You lead,” he said, “I’ll follow.”

* * *

When Squall walked onto the bridge, carrying his gunblade, every head turned his way. Their silence was deafening. They were looking at him to make his move.

“Quistis.” he said.

“Yeah?”

“You’ll be in charge of the Garden.”

“Understood.”

“...I would love to have you out in the field, you know that.”

Quistis nodded. “I know.”

“Seifer, Selphie, Xu, Brea – you’ll lead the ground troops into Deling, clear the way for me. All I need is to reach the Mansion. She’ll be there.”

“How do you know that?” Seifer asked, “She could be anywhere...”

“No.” Squall said, “Deling City is the prize she took from her father and so is the Mansion. That’s where she’ll make her stand. I kill her, and this whole thing is over.”

“So...” Xu said, “What’s our move, General?”

“Esthar will join us if they can.” Nida said, “But I don’t think we should count on that.”

“I agree.” Quistis said.

“Whatever.” Squall said, “I want the field commanders to come down with me to the Guardian Force Repository. We’ll need them.”

“Which ones?” Selphie asked.

“All of them.”

There was a brief, anxious moment of silence.

“Nida?” Squall said, breaking it.

“Yes, General?”

“Take us to Deling City.”


	13. D-Day, I (Mors est quies viatoris-finis est omnis laboris)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Death is the repose of the traveler - is the end of all labor."

_All is quiet in Deling._

Irvine surveyed the skies over the Monument of Triumph from Galbadia Garden’s bridge. Below, he could see the troop formations he had ordered falling into place – there were already lines drawn around the Deling Square. Sandbag and makeshift metal barriers erected to shield his soldiers, with equal gaps in between them stood in a semi-circle as the first line of defense. As the second line, Main Street was covered with zig-zagging fortifications and troops. The buildings on either sides had sharpshooters on the roofs. A full frontal assault would be insane – the bottleneck of Main Street, despite leaving the surrounding streets barely defended, was enough to turn any possible occupation into a meat grinder situation.

Irvine checked in with the other, likewise two-tiered defensive fortifications: Victoria street reported that everything was quiet. Broadwalk Avenue reported no activity. In both cases, Irvine’s defense plan was simple. The front lines were composed mainly of sharpshooters and SAM08Gs. The second line drawn was a wall of swordsmen and close-combat specialists, waiting to grind any potential enemy progress to a halt. Admittedly, the weakest defenses were near Caraway Street, just a semi-circle trying to put up some semblance of a fight in front of the Mansion. Rinoa had told him that it wouldn’t matter – that she herself could stop anyone coming her way, including the SeeD General.

Of course Irvine _had_ considered the possibility of SeeD bringing on the big guns – he had thus ordered one GIM52A squad (six robots in all) to be stationed at each of the possible entrances.

Everything was in place now, and the humming of the bridge was making Irvine nervous. There was nothing but the idling sounds of consoles.

“Claire, anything?” Irvine asked.

“No, sir. Nothing on the scanners.”

“On none of the frequencies?”

“Yes, sir.”

Irvine waited. And waited. And waited. He started to pace around the room, trying to hasten their arrival. Anything but the silence, anything but this seemingly endless pause that slowed time down to a crawl. He went to the console and picked up the phone. He dialed Rinoa’s number. She picked it up in the middle of the first ring.

_“Getting impatient, lover?”_

Irvine's jaw dropped. “How can you tell?”

_“This is the fifth call in the last hour.”_

“I guess I’m a bit one edge, yeah. We pulled the trigger, but I’m still waiting to see what will happen.”

_“They’ll be here, soon enough. Just hang on.”_

“Okay. I’ll call you if whatever.”

_“Alright.”_

Irvine put the phone down and returned to pacing, hands folded behind his back.

 _Come on, come on, make a move already,_ _I ain’t got all day..._

“Sir!” Zonn said, “Our scanners picked up a heat signature, and its-“

An explosion boomed in the distance. It was followed closely by a second, third and a fourth, each one echoing louder than the previous. Irvine rushed to the navigations consoles and peered out of the view screen.

Where The Monument of Triumph once stood was now a cloud of smoke.

“Weapons primed!” Irvine shouted as he rushed back to the central console, a smile making its way to his face. Yes. “And somebody tell me just what the hell that wa-“

The same booming sound repeated, three more times in the distance. Irvine heard a bleeping, and looked down to see a red button blinking next to the receiver. A squad.

“This is the Field Marshal.”

_“This is Squad 1-D! The Monument of Triumph is vaporized, sir! The enemy is still outside of visual range!”_

Another button started blinking. Irvine pressed it.

“Field Marshal.”

_“Sir, this is Zacharias Jen, I’m stationed on the second line of defense of the Main Street. I can see a visual disturbance in the distance – it’s very minor, like a heat wave, sir. Maybe-“_

A deafening screech of static blared through the line. Irvine cringed.

_“Long-range pulse cannons, sir! It’s them!”_

Irvine placed the receiver back down.

“Claire! Can you estimate their position?”

“Yes, sir! I’m adjusting our aim now!”

* * *

The soldiers positioned at the first defense line held themselves in check. Their squad commanders, standing slightly taller than the rest of their men, kept their silence as the shimmering orbs of pulse ammo pounded on the surface of the square and pummeled the ground into an irregular, broken, shallow crater. With every passing shot, the pulses were coming closer – thoroughly demolishing anything in their path and reaching for the soldiers in wait.

Another couple of shots dug the ground deeper and this time, the sharpshooters kneeling behind their trenches, felt the stray, small pieces of the square in their faces. Almost completely in sync with the shot, their com-links came to life and the Field Marshal’s voice told them, simultaneously to move.

 _“Retreat to the secondary line!”_ the order came, _“I repeat, retreat to the secondary line!”_

The soldiers all abandoned their posts and dispersed, scattering into the secondary lines of defense dug into the bottleneck of Main Street. They worked themselves into the ranks; the excess number of soldiers moving out of cover to find one of the small barricades meant to be on the side streets.

The air above the square rippled, as if there was a sphere of water floating in the air, and when the ripples extended, revealing the blue, majestic form of Ocean Garden, floating over the square and looming over the soldiers below. The pulse batteries attached to the various places of the Garden’s exterior rotated into firing position, and the army below heard of the screeching sound of gathering energy before the pulse batteries unleashed a full volley. The soldiers in various positions throughout the city witnessed the glowing, pale blue specks of energy tear through the air and then explode in the Galbadia Garden’s flank.

“Hold the line!” one squad commander called, raising a hand to steady his men. With the first booming of Galbadia Garden’s artillery filling the air, they were standing in formation underneath the crossfire.

APC hovercrafts rose from under the Ocean Garden’s floater ring and scattered upon getting out from under it. Swaying to their sides, they drew the fire of rooftop sharpshooters and some of the SAM08Gs. As they repositioned themselves to let SeeD sharpshooters onto the roofs to replace the Galbadians, half of the squadron landed and the SeeD ground forces, led by Seifer Almasy and Selphie Tilmitt charged the Main Street line. 

A group of GIM52As rose into the air as the hovercrafts suspended over select rooftops opened their hatches and dispatched the Galbadian soldiers trying to return fire. Some hovercrafts had barely veered away from the roofs when mini-missiles of GIM52As claimed them; in others, the hovercrafts’ own weaponry returned fire as mini-missiles found them and brought the robots down.

The Galbadian swordsmen and close-combat specialists zig-zagged through the covers and rushed to meet the oncoming SeeD force halfway. Both forces piled into the street, making SAM08Gs useless and easy targets for rooftop sharpshooters. The lumbering war machines fell, but that didn’t prevent from a whole squadron of GIM52As from rising and unleashing a wall of mini-missiles. They detonated over the heads of the clashing crowd below, scattering pieces of masonry, glass and metal into the air and showering the streets with debris.

* * *

Irvine shouted at his communications officers, all standing in a row, one ear to him and another in their respective channels. An impact rocked the bridge and shifted its incline slightly, but Irvine kept his ground.

“Lost cannons 2 and 3!” Claire reported.

“Compensate!” Irvine said, “Fire a volley when ready and get ready to extend the main cannon!” he turned to his communications officers, “Order the rest of our GIM52As to the Main Street! Level the neighborhood if you have to, just don’t let them through!”

“Yes, sir!”

* * *

Selphie stepped into the relative security of a building front and surveyed the scene above. The GIM52As were hovering over the carnage, doing nothing. She mourned the loss of their rooftop sharpshooters, but felt a bit safer knowing that the robots couldn’t indiscriminately start raining down mini-missiles.

It changed when others started to join the hovering ranks. The robots were slowly forming a wall above them, a wall that would translate into high firepower once primed. As the ranks hovering over the battlefield swelled, Selphie saw that something had to be done. In the chaos around her, rounding up enough field mages to take them down – her best Thundaga couldn’t do that.

There was another option.

Selphie concentrated as much as she could – she saw the GIM52As as vague, purplish shapes standing in a line, suspended in mid-air. She knew that what she was about to do probably would do more than just bring them down... but she had to.

The invocation came with a heavy breath.

_“Quezacotl.”_


	14. D-Day, II (Hic vivi taceant, hic mortui loquuntur)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Here the living keep silent, here the dead speak."

Rinoa could almost feel her gaze sliding along the length of the gunblade on her desk. It was her own design, sleek, smooth, sharp and deadly. Her fingers were almost itching to reach out and grab it – something in her was telling her that she should have been out there in the streets, with her soldiers, fighting like she used to.

But that was just the thing. Fighting like that was what she _used to_ do. She was a soldier back then. Now, she _had_ soldiers.

No, no, the President didn’t fight.

That didn’t mean that Rinoa Heartilly wasn’t going to fight, she would. When the time came, and it wasn’t quite time yet. So Rinoa sat there, chin in palm, waiting. Waiting for the war to find her, waiting for it to finally reach her.

Something shifted in her awareness and Rinoa heard the rumbling of thunder in the distance. The sound carried with it a lively, ferocious, tangible presence of pure magic, unburdened by the constraints of existence. Rinoa recognized it to be identical to the one roaming the back recesses of her own mind, laying in wait to be called forth. A Guardian Force. She smiled. Things were starting to get interesting, and just that presence alone made her want to grab the gunblade and join the fray.

But no. Presidents didn’t fight wars.

* * *

The Guardian Force came down with a thunderbolt punching down the concrete beneath the soldiers’ feet, and from the lightning it emerged, spreading its wings and letting out a braying cry. Pulse particles and artillery shells flew in opposite directions directly above the creature, but it hovered, unaffected.

The robots shifted in their position, still holding formation but spreading out to accommodate the size of the target, and once they were in position, they fired. The mini-missiles drew lines of smoke in the air before exploding right in the chest of the Guardian Force. It screamed, the cry reverberating through the battleground below, but the assault didn’t do anything to sway it.

Quezacotl spread its wings once more and then, from beneath them, chains of lightning issued forth, slicing clean through the hovering war machines. As each of them overloaded, shaking violently in mid-air and exploded with the yield of their remaining ammunition, the ground under her feet shook.

The Guardian Force’s presence dissipated. Selphie felt something rush out of her the moment it did. It’d be a while before she could use him again, but luckily for her, she had others.

Seifer heard the Guardian Force’s cry and looked up to see a cloud of smoke and dust where once just moments ago, a wall of GIM52As hovered. Seeing the pathway clear, he raised his gunblade and shouted for anyone who was listening to follow him. Xu saw the rallying cry and echoed it, trying to get the attention of enough people to press forward and down Main Street. Their voices were drowned out by he roaring sound of rapid artillery fire above. Selphie looked up and saw the main cannon of Galbadia Garden protruding from its middle, vomiting shell after shell after shell and aided by the dissonant firing of their remaining side-cannons.

A pulse particle got lucky and destroyed a side-cannon, causing Selphie to squeal victoriously. The Galbadia Garden started to move away from its position, and Selphie concentrated onto the street level.

Most of the SeeDs had heard the call and had grouped together, pushing the enemy back. The veterans moved out of cover and took the lead. They sprinted forward, following the Galbadian soldiers giving chase, moving over the junk pile left of the ruined war machines and unto to the spreading, cruciform grid of Deling City.

* * *

Quistis barely kept her balance as the repeated pummeling of artillery shells echoed through the groaning structure of the Garden. She leaned on her cane and kept her useless hand on the main console. The sound of an explosion on the outside shook them once more, and Quistis cursed.

“We’ve lost batteries two and six!” Zan shouted.

Quistis clenched her teeth, “Evasive! Nida, try to circle-strafe them! Keep firing!”

Another rumble and the view screen was filled with a sudden burst of flames.

“What was that?” Quistis asked.

“Incendiary shell!” Lea said, “One of their auxiliary batteries, they-“ another rumble erupted, somewhere higher up, “The armor plating can’t take too much of this!”

One, two, three, four, five...

“Armor breach!” Zan reported, “Upper layers one through four!"

Six, seven, eight, nine...

“Volley fire, all remaining batteries, charge!” Quistis commanded.

“Charged!” Zan and Lea both called.

_“Fire!”_

For a moment, the view screen glowed bright blue with an almost blinding intensity. The ululating of pulse batteries erupted in a sharp, scattering sound that screeched in the air like a dying vulture. The particles thrown into the volley tore through the air, flying around the constant string of shells thrown by the main cannon. Each particle shot found its mark and exploded in a flash of energy, lining up the Galbadia Garden in damage, each hit marked with small explosions. No sooner had that hit been scored that Galbadia Garden responded with the roaring of auxiliary cannons. The incendiary shells flew right into the exposed bow of Ocean Garden, and showered the ground with a rain of armor plating and masonry.

The bridge shook and Quistis lost her balance. She fell on her side and her cane slipped away. She brought herself back up to her knees and the rhythmic pounding of the main cannon suddenly gave way to the sound of metal being crushed and broken through.

Quistis held onto the console and rose to her feet. She leaned on to support herself.

“Fuck it!” she shouted, “Nida, thrusters at maximum! _Ram_ the motherfuckers!”

“Quistis, that-“

“Shut up! Give us a bit of an arc, don't go straight ahead – that’ll give us some more momentum! Lea, Zan – fire at will!”

“Yes, sir!” the weapons operators said in unison.

“I don’t care if we both sink, I’ll have them in flames before we do!” Quistis shouted, pounding her useless fist on the edge of the console, “Nida, let’s go!”

Nida clenched his teeth and obeyed his orders.

* * *

The crowd of soldiers the SeeDs were chasing through the streets spread out in small groups and zig-zagged through the grid of Deling City, causing their pursuers to slow down and let them move. Seifer, Selphie and Xu took three separate streets and the SeeDs behind them divided arbitrarily, following their Lieutenant Generals. They moved through the city at a surprising pace, encountering no resistance for the first few blocks. They came across trenches placed right onto the street halfway through to the Presidential Mansion, but there were no soldiers manning them, there were no Galbadians holding down the line.

Above them, the booming sounds of the Gardens clashing rumbled on. The shadow of Ocean Garden was cast upon the streets as it glided across the city and towards its enemy. As the enemy returned fire, the broken pieces of armor plating and sharpnel the size of people kept raining down, showering the buildings around those below, reducing entire floors to rubble and masonry.

The Lieutenant Generals each ordered the troops under their command to halt, to take a fanning formation and march cautiously. They asked each other through their com-links if their situations were identical. They were. No soldiers, nothing to be seen of the ones they had let scatter. Nothing.

Without a choice, they pressed on.

Without warning, the cackling of electricity snapped in the air and the first rows of SeeDs fell, limbs contorting and bodies spasming. The attention of the SeeDs peaked instantly, and they turned to the skies to see paratroopers descending. In that split-second, their weapons – long, thick barrels and glowing, bright blue power cells – reminded every one of them of Esthar.

Seifer didn’t hesitate. He held his breath and focused his thoughts onto the group of shocktroopers assembling behind Galbadian trenches. He released his thoughts.

_“Ifrit.”_

Selphie started to back away, hoping against hope that she could focus enough to call upon another one of her allies. Her mind, hell-bent on the task, cracked into a sudden burst of joy and with it, her lips shaped the name.

_“Cactuar.”_

Xu didn’t even consider an alternative. She ordered those under her command to retreat and for the sharpshooters to step up to the front. As a hail of bullets rained from those at the rooftops, Xu clenched her teeth and begged for her mind to angle itself towards what was needed. It found her in a moment of absolute panic and poured out of her mouth.

_“Bahamut.”_

* * *

Rinoa’s eyes opened wide as she felt the presence of the Guardian Force emerging from nothingness and into Deling City. There wasn’t just one, but many; each one powerful, each one a relentless, unstoppable force.

Rinoa grinned. It set her teeth on edge.

She shook off the stiffness of waiting in her chair and placed both hands on the desk. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes. She could feel it hesitantly rising to the surface, ascending, hoping that it would be released, that it would be unleashed.

Rinoa spoke the name as nothing more than a whisper.

_“Valcura.”_


	15. D-Day, III (Retaliation)

In an instant, the skyline of Deling City was filled with the magnificent presence of the Guardian Force gracing it. Gusts of wind picked up and swirled around the Presidential Mansion, moving air and energy around in a spiral. In one last, mighty spin of the whirlwind, great black wings spread out and Valcura let out a mighty shriek. It spread its six pitch black wings wide; its talons curled up and released, curled up and released, looking for something to latch onto. The creature’s head, a beautiful maiden’s face with pale, sickly blue skin, was thrown back and her braids flew in all directions, and she cried out again. 

In all of her four hands, Valcura held blades, each one gleaming with murderous intent and power.

The beating of mighty wings echoed through the city and the bird of prey launched itself to the battleground.

* * *

Seeing the creature fly by, Quistis asked, “What the _fuck_ is that!?” She bent down to pick up her cane just in time for another rumble and another shake.

“It looks like a...” Lea started, but she stopped. No. Couldn’t be.

“It looks just like a fucking Guardian Force!” Zan spat.

“We lost battery four!” Lea reported.

“Nida!” Quistis called, “Fuck what that thing is – is this all we’ve got!?”

“I’m giving it all she’s got, Quist, so be patient, we should be picking up, give me-“ the bridge shook, “Alright, you know what, fuck it, we’re going as fast as we can!”

“All I asked.” Quistis said.

“Incoming transmission from Esthar!” a commincations officer shouted.

Static filled the bridge and Laguna’s voice broke through.

_“Quistis!”_

“Laguna, I hope you’re on your way!” Quistis said.

_“We’re crippled over here, the barracks are destroyed and we have no transportation – I’m afraid you’re on your own.”_

“Aren’t we always?”

“We’re set on the collision course!” Lea announced, "LG, if you're gonna change your mind, now's the time!"

_“Collision!? What are you-“_

Quistis cut the line.

* * *

SeeDs on all streets took cover as the shocktroopers discharged their guns and tore apart the roads. The rooftop sharpshooters took a few well-aimed shots, but their bullets ricocheted off of the armor of their enemy. Selphie’s field mages responded with a few elemental attacks and in moments, para-magic filled the air. The shockwave of energies shattered windows and broke down walls around them, but all t little avail. The mages' assault was responded to by the shock rifles. A few of them fell, which prompted some swordsmen to move to their cover-buildings’ fire exits in attempt to reach the rooftops and descend from above.

The Guardian Forces overhead, were building up to their strike, oblivious to the occasional shock-bolt thrown at them.

A powerful shriek drew their attention and those able peered out from their cover to see a creature with black wings hovering over the horizon. Before anybody could react, the creature launched itself towards the field, tearing through the air. It’s talons extended and before Xu’s disbelieving eyes, snatched Bahamut right out of the air. The GFs rose to the air, Bahamut clawing at its aggressor, and they disappeared into the clouds.

Xu ordered whoever she had to try and flank the shocktroopers holding formation, to go around the surrounding buildings. With a nod, they complied and dispersed, leaving her with a skeleton force to try and keep them busy.

* * *

Selphie watched with satisfaction as Cactuar’s thousand needles rained down upon the shocktroopers, puncturing their armor and piercing their flesh; the thorns pierced through their bodies like butter and some of them hailed down, piercing through concrete and wood. As the troopers were skewered, they twitched and gurgled, and their rifles dropped. Selphie commanded the sharpshooters on the ground level to claim the fallen weapons, and they obeyed. No sooner had they moved out from cover that a black shape descended and with its descent crushed the GF right onto the pavement. It’s needles flew every which way, shattering windows and claiming those unlucky enough to be caught in the sudden wave of projectiles.

As the creature’s talons scraped the concrete, the blades held by its four arms came swinging and carved the SeeDs out of cover into pieces – the blades, without obstruction, dug into the sides of buildings and wrenched loose bricks and cement. The upper two arms swung and with a fell swoop, tore the rooftop sharpshooters to pieces. Their downward swing cut a swath through the tenaments, scattering debris into the air.

The SeeDs scrambled, seeking cover. A few field mages threw elemental attacks at the looming Guardian Force, all to no avail. Selphie rolled and threw herself behind the first tall object she found. She crouched, trying to concentrate, but the blood-curdling shriek of the bird of prey scattered her thoughts.

Selphie looked up. She could see the Ocean Garden above and growing more and more distant, insistently trading fire with its opponent. Smoke was rising from various points on the Garden’s hull, and Selphie could see small flickers of fires in the cracks lining the armor plating.

She heard the beating of wings, looked up and the creature disappeared. Selphie moved out from behind the dumpster and checked the street. It was a rugged terrain of torn concrete and disrupted pavement, coated in the bodies of SeeDs. But otherwise, the path was clear.

“Let’s move!” she called, and looked around to see if there was anyone left to follow her orders. Much to her dismay, she was down to two full squads. Deciding that it was still better than nothing, Selphie sprinted down the street and prayed that they would still follow.

* * *

The platoons holding their posts at the ends of Victoria Street and Broadwalk Avenue received their transmissions simultaneously – their Field Marshal, his voice filled with urgency, ordered them to pull out and to form a defense line in front of the mansion. The soldiers pulled out of their posts and began to move towards their next spot.

* * *

Seifer blinked several times when a black blur sliced clean through the mid-section of the fire-elemental Guardian Force. Pieces of Ifrit fell in separate directions, spewing burning blood and leveled wherever they landed. A shower of bricks and glass found the SeeDs below and scattered them out of whatever fragile formation they were holding. Valcura didn’t stop – its gleaming blades bloomed and in a flurry of strokes, it started to level the ground underneath Ifrit.

Seifer pulled himself away from cover and rushed across the street, barely managing to avoid the swirling swords. He hugged the wall, and saw that the rest of his troops were unwilling to follow him.

Seifer tried to concentrate. He recalled some of the exercises they had been put through in training. A single-object focus came to his mind as he thought about fire – the flames, the ash, the catalyst, the flicker...

_“Brothers.”_

The force left him, and the two earthly minotaurs tore through the pavement to emerge. Valcura responded immediately by bringing two blades down. The brothers rose their warhammers and blocked the attacks, but no sooner had they done so, the second set of swords came down and cut them into separate pieces, scattering their dissipating bodies around. Seifer saw one enter through a storefront, reducing the building's front to an open maw.

“Shit!” Seifer spat. He took out his com-link, “Selphie?”

_“A bit busy here, Seif!"_

“Is Main Street clear?”

“ _If you and Xu are off it, yes, it is!”_

“Thanks! Got any GFs left?”

_“Why?”_

“Didn’t you see the motherfucker demolishing half the city? Six wings and all?”

_“I was trying to focus when you called!”_

“Get back to it – we gotta keep it off our fucking backs!”

Seeing an oncoming cutting edge, Seifer threw himself onto the ground. He switched the channels of his com-link until he found him.

“Squall! Main Street is clear! You’re up, fucking go!”

* * *

“Sir, they’re assembling a defense line in front of the Mansion.” Zon reported.

Quistis grinned.

“Spare a battery and take them down. Now."

“Yes, sir!”

The whirring of pulse batteries continued, but a flash of bright blue light told them that one had aimed downwards. They heard the explosion break through the garbled noise of the damage they were taking and dealing. Lea squealed with delight. Quistis staggered to the view screen and saw that they had dug a small crater to the ground, and in the process, had demolished the front façade of the Mansion.

“Take that!” Quistis shouted, black fist in the air. She reeled herself in, trying to keep herself contained, “Alright, how are we on our collision, Nida?”

“About ten seconds to impact!”

“Charge up the pulse batteries, maximum output!”

“But sir, at that range-“ Lea started, but Quistis cut her off:

“You have your orders, soldier!”

“Are you _insane_?” Nida shouted, eyes glued to the screen, “Have you totally lost it!? At that proximity, the pulse particles will fry us as much as they will fry them!”

“That’s the idea.” Quistis said, “We can take some of it. They can’t – and they can’t afford to use incendiary shells now. It’s win-win for all of us. Are you charged? Lea, Zan?”

“Yes, sir!” they said.

“Nida?”

“Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuckfuck okay, okay, three seconds to impact!”

“Fire!”

Galbadia Garden’s main cannon, squeezed in between the approaching Ocean Garden and its own hangar, buckled at the same as the volley of pulse particles bloomed. Before the explosion could engulf even the weapon’s base, Ocean Garden collided headlong into Galbadia Garden. A series of explosions shook both of the impressive structures, and stray shells and unexpanded pulse energy scattered every which way. The impact locked Gardens in and spun them around an axis, circling them further and further away until the strain overloaded the engines of both and the bases of Gardens, above the floater rings, gave out with dull huffs.

Echoing the sentiment of their opponent, Nida reported, “Floaters and engines have failed! We’re sinking!”

“Fucking let us.” Quistis said, “Do we have a strike team, anyone at all left from the ground forces?”

“We have two squads, sir.” Lea said.

“Good. Have them meet us here.”

“We can’t just abandon post like that!” Nida said, “We’re not going anywhere!”

“Neither are they, but we can’t sit still in stalemate! Kinneas is still in there, and as long as he’s in there, our objective is incomplete!”

“Since when is he an objective?” Nida asked.

Quistis held her fist up.

“Since _this_. But even if not... Dr. Odine is in there as well.”

Lea and Zan stood up. Nida shook his head.

“You _are_ insane.” He said, “Now I can see why you guys took the front lines of the Second War.”

Quistis smiled. “And aren’t you glad we did?”

* * *

The hovercraft left Squall and Brea on the very spot that Main Street connected to the Deling Square. The gray skies above matched the dust and death and decay settling into the city. Squall didn’t fret over it – he had given the order to level Deling if need be, and though he had hoped for it to not have come to this, it had, and that was the reality of it. He also wasn't a big fan of this turning into a street-by-street struggle, but his orders had been given and it was much too late, or just too soon, for regrets.

The gunblade in his hand felt warm, light and ready, sharp and eager. Next to him and a step behind, Brea had both eyes open, both pistols ready, rounds in the chamber, fingers on the triggers.

“Brea... let’s go.”

“Yes, sir.”


	16. D-Day, IV (Behold the Valiant Misanthrope)

Squall briskly jogged over the disrupted terrain of what used to be Deling Square, followed closely by Brea. Together, they made their way down Main Street, passing by the scenes of destruction. Weapons, dead soldiers, dead SeeDs, broken trenches, broken glass, collapsed walls, collapsed buildings and dust lined their path.

In the distance, Squall heard a great groaning sound and saw the flash from an explosion. Ocean Garden had just collided with Galbadia Garden and something, he didn’t know what, appeared to have blown up by the contact.

All the more reason to press on.

Over the city, he could see a bird of prey roaming, circling the buildings, looking for prey. Squall knelt down and focused, angled his thoughts towards his hatred for Rinoa and drew strength from it. One by one, he called all of his allies forth.

_“Eden. Diablos. Alexander.”_

He sighed as they left him and became manifest before him, the towering giants of the Guardian Force hovering, their incredible power at the tips of his fingers. Feeling like he had just released his last breath, Squall unleashed them. Alexander sat smack in the middle of the shallow crater that used to be Deling Square, whereas Eden and Diablos shot forward and towards the bird of prey, each one marking its approach with a different sound.

When the summoning past, Squall stood back up and continued further down Main Street. They moved from cover to cover, from half-demolished wall to broken trench, keeping up an even pace. Above them, the sounds of the Guardian Force wailing and the indescribable; convoluted noises of powers beyond their comprehension or control being unleashed. The air above had traded in the skirmish of the Gardens for a clash of the Guardian Force – every blow struck shook the ground, every move made was heard by all those struggling underneath. Squall caught a glimpse of children in the wreckage of buildings, struggling with their parents; people trying to pull each other out from under the masonry. He clenched his teeth and pressed on.

“Is this wise, sir?” Brea asked as she took her position behind a wall.

“Is what wise, Brea?”

“You taking her on by yourself, sir.”

“That’s what she’s expecting.” Squall said as he took cover behind a dumpster upon hearing the sounds of the battle up ahead, “And to be perfectly honest, I think this is fate.”

“Fate, sir?”

“We were headed this way from day one, I know that now. And, as we often said, I am destined to be the one who kills her.” Squall said, “I am her Knight, after all. Who else?”

“But, can you, sir? Kill her, I mean?”

“Why not?”

“But she will most probably use red magic again, and-“

“There is no such thing as red magic.”

Squall moved out of the cover, cautiously checking up ahead as best as he could. Brea followed him.

“Sir?” she asked, "What do you mean?"

“She told me that. She made it up, and knew we would believe it. There is blue magic, why not red?”

“Then what was it, sir?”

“She said it was like junctioning...”

Squall stopped. Something clicked in his mind and the pieces fell into place.

“Sir?” Brea prodded him gently.

“I know...” He said, “I know how she's doing it.”

“Sir?”

“Follow me.”

“Yes, sir.”

* * *

Their path ended on Caraway Street, and once they stepped on, they came across the crater dug into the front façade of the Mansion – the soil, the concrete and glass had all collapsed. The outer rim of the crater was marked with half-bodies of soldiers, weapons partially destroyed and pieces of the trenches put there. The Mansion itself seemed to have survived, but barely: there was nothing but a hill of broken stone and debris leading up into it, and although most of the roof had survived, Squall didn’t know if Rinoa had.

They stood there, trying to gauge their path. They looked up and ahead which was when they both saw the Sorceress. She was seated comfortably in her chair – she appeared to have been sitting still despite the fact that the rest of her office was just the top point of a slope, as if she didn’t care at all.

_This is it._

Squall, followed by Brea, circled around the hole and moved towards the mansion. Squall centered his approach and began to climb the hill. Brea took two steps to the foot of the rubble and bounced off of an invisible barrier. She stumbled, tried to keep her balance, but fell down. She immediately got up, aimed both pistols at the Sorceress and pulled. Three shots each, and every single one of them bounced off of the nothing erected between her and Rinoa.

Squall held out his hand, “Brea, it’s okay! It’s alright! Hold your fire."

"But sir-"

"You don’t need to back me up here, just watch my back, okay?”

“Yes, sir. And... please don’t die.”

“I don’t intend to die today.”

* * *

Squall stood at the bottom of the hill of debris, looking up at her. Rinoa, wearing a simple, elegant black dress, was sitting in what used to be her father’s chair, her hair gently billowing in the wind. She had a gunblade on her lap. Her fingers were absent-mindedly tapping on the side of the blade, and Squall noticed that it was the same weapon that she had beaten him with.

The Sorceress and President sitting atop the hill of broken stone, looking down at him with a bored expression on her face, acknowledged his existence with a mocking huff. She smiled viciously.

“Well, well, well... the General lives.” she said.

Squall gripped his gunblade tight. “It didn’t have to be like this.”

Rinoa’s smile vanished. “It _always_ had to be like this!"

Squall waited.

"For fuck’s sakes, Squall – you still don’t get it, do you? After all of this, you still don’t get it! You’re a SeeD! I’m a sorceress! No matter whatever else, this is what we are! This, now, what you came here to do, is how it would've always turned out!”

“You were the one who started all this.” Squall said, “If you hadn’t tried to sink the Garden...”

“As long as you were alive and as long as SeeD were being trained, I would _never_ be safe! I tried to destroy what would eventually destroy me, what’s so wrong with that?”

Squall kept silent. Rinoa chuckled, mocking.

“You humans... you waste your time trying to touch things you can’t even understand, you barely surpass your dreams and desires – you spend your days drawing spells and trying to feel magic, falling victim to memory erosion and amnesia later in life. Fucking _pathetic_!” her hand rose and she pointed towards the City, “You see that thing out there, my Valcura? That’s _my_ creation! _I_ made it, just like how I took down my father, just like how I united Galbadia, just like how I brought you to your knees! Look at me! I am so much more than you could’ve imagined!”

Squall took a deep breath. “Are you finished..?”

A sudden rage surfaced on her face but Rinoa transferred it to her smile and drowned it in mock curiosity.

“Why, did you have something to say?” she asked sweetly.

“I’m done justifying myself to you. You’re right. It would always turn out like this. But it wasn’t because of me, or SeeD, or anything else. It was because _you_ were always like this, you would always become what you are now.”

“A Sorceress? A piece of Hyne? A force of nature?”

“A fucking misanthrope and a malcontent. Just another sorceress drunk on her own power – just what I was trained to kill.”

Rinoa rose her hand. Pure elemental energy charged the air and a column of mixed elements shot forward from her palm – the column displaced the air around it, creating smoke spirals, but dissipated a foot from Squall. Rinoa’s jaw dropped.

“What..?” she managed.

Squall, in response, raised his hand and demonstrated the gleaming on his pinky finger - the Odineum ring he had given to Selphie.

“You’re gonna have to take me on without your powers, _princess_.” Squall said.

Rinoa smiled and slowly stood up, her gunblade sliding off of her lap and into her hands. She kicked the chair behind her and created space. Squall took his favored opening stance, the one he had used for years, and Rinoa responded by keeping herself neutral. She extended a hand and beckoned him closer.

"Come on then. Show me what you're made of, little Knight."

Squall sprinted up the hill, compensating for the ruggedness of the terrain by not breaking stride. Rinoa brought her gunblade about, the blade tracing an arc in the air. Squall took the last two steps, lunged forward and swung. The sound of blades clashing clanged in the air.


	17. D-Day, V (No Enemy)

The unearthly sounds of the Guardian Force pitting insurmountable power against insurmountable power groaned over the ruins of Deling City as they clashed. Valcura, with its blooming blades and ever-beating wings, encircled by Diablos, Eden, Shiva, Pandemona and Tonberry. It was taking fire directly from the great and terrible engines of Alexander from afar, but putting up a fierce fight. Its blades had already claimed Siren, Carbuncle, Leviathan and Cerberus – those that had fallen had dissipated, returning to their nests in their users’ minds, but their fall had practically leveled the city.

The surviving SeeDs, like their enemies, were scattered across the streets, tracing the grid of Deling City by navigating around the war in the skies. This thinned out their ranks and by the time they had managed to push their way towards Caraway Street, they emerged having become a bunch of incomplete squads.

Seifer, Selphie and Xu manage to coordinate themselves to meet up and bring their forces, such as they were, with them. It took a little guiding and a little guessing, but at the end of it all, they managed to meet up on Broadwalk Avenue, a little ways from Caraway Street.

That was when a new sound, the deep groaning of metal echoed in from the woods, and the SeeDs on the ground turned their attention to see the damaged, broken shape of Ocean Garden slowly tipping onto its side.

* * *

Quistis found herself hugging the dispatch console as the Garden shifted. Grabbing onto her cane, she tried to find something to hold onto, but her damn fist wouldn’t let her extend her fingers enough to grab a surface. She tried to steady herself as much as she could as they slid.

Nida fell beside her. Lea and Zan were holding onto their seats as the Ocean Garden toppled and collided with the ground. The entire bridge shook violently, the sound of their fall deafening, and everything remained still once they ended up sideways.

Quistis struggled to get herself back onto what was now the ground. She shifted her legs and managed to get herself on her back. The only thing left to do was to turn onto her stomach, get on her knees and use her cane to get back up. Nida, in front of her, was doing the same. Zan and Lea, further down the bridge, had steadily descended to the wall.

The consoles around them were dead.

“Well," Nida said, "Wherever we are, that’s where we’ll stay.”

“I just hope they didn’t all jump ship over there.” Quistis said, managing to pull herself to her feet, “Roll call. Everyone alright?”

Muttered affirmations came her way. Quistis tried to steady herself as her cane failed to find even surfaces to cling to. She limped down the length of the console screens, following Nida, and they both got off and got closer to the view screen.

No sooner had they gotten close enough to peer outside that numerous, small cracks formed on the outer layers of the glass. Quistis squinted and saw muzzle flash. The thick glass of Galbadia Garden’s view screen was at an angle, now occupied by three Galbadian soldiers with automatic rifles firing like men possessed at Ocean Garden’s bridge.

Quistis clicked her com-link on. She switched through the channels, hoping against hope that their wireless connections were still holding up.

“Everybody, grab your weapons.” Quistis said, “They are are going to be coming here, very soon.”

The line buzzed in her ear and Quistis breathed a sigh of relief.

“ _LG, this is Obeh. We’re having some difficulty getting through, but we are close. It’s just hard to navigate the Garden sideways.”_

“Pick up the pace, soldier,” Quistis said, “The Galbs are trying to shoot their way in. The glass will hold, but I don’t know for how long.”

_“Roger that, LG, we’ll be there when we can.”_

“Alright. Bridge, out.”

Quistis shuffled through the available channels once more.

* * *

The SeeD ground forces faced the most perplexing problem of this combat session once they regrouped on Broadwalk Ave and witnessed the fall of the Ocean Garden. They had no enemy. The streets they had ran through were running empty, littered with the corpses they had made and had left behind, and the clash of the Guardian Force, still at a distance, was out of their hands.

Xu and Seifer decided to rest their troops for a while. Selphie’s forces followed suit and soon enough, they were all sitting down, occupying the broken pavement. Some started smoking, some simply got lost in thought.

They waited.

Selphie was burning with a desire to call Squall, but the possibility of distracting him at what might have been a crucial moment stopped her. She resigned herself to waiting along with the others. As if on cue, her com-link sprang to life and Quistis’ voice broke through.

_“Calling all Lieutenant Generals, calling all Lieutenant Generals, are you receiving me?”_

“Loud and clear, Quisty,” Selphie said, causing some ears to perk up, “Sitrep.”

_“We’re immobilized and in the bridge. Thing is, so are Kinneas and his retinue, and they’re trying to bring down the armor glass between us to get in. Where are you right now?”_

“Broadwalk Ave.”

_“Well then get your butts over here, we’re going to need you.”_

“Roger that, Quisty. By the way, that bravado goes with your complexion.”

The line was cut.

“Okay people!” Selphie called, and the SeeDs dragged themselves off of the ground, “Here’s our final marching orders: we are to rendezvous with Lieutenant General Trepe at the Ocean Garden. Our mission: stop the Galbs from boarding our home! Added bonus: capturing Field Marshal Kinneas alive! Lieutenant Generals Almasy and Xu will lead you towards your target, follow them, and do your part!”

Seifer stepped to the side as Xu led a group of weary soldiers on.

“Where are _you_ going, messenger girl?”

“I need to check on something.” She said. Seifer's eyes told her that he understood.

“He’s probably neck-deep in it.” he said.

“Even if. I gotta make sure.”

Seifer smiled. “Alright, go. just don’t keep us hanging.”

* * *

Selphie ran down Broadwalk Avenue and towards the half-demolished Presidential Mansion. On approach, she saw Brea, standing watch. Brea turned around and aimed at Selphie, causing her to stop. Once recognition set in, brea lowered her pistols. Selphie ran over to her.

“Brea.”

“Sir.”

“Where is he?”

“Inside.” Brea said, cocking her head towards the Mansion. Selphie could hear blades clashing.

“Can we go in?” she asked.

“No, sir.”

“Quistis called.” Selphie said, “We need to go back her up. You comin’?”

“I can’t abandon my post, sir.”

Selphie smiled. She shook her head.

“Good soldier.” She said.


	18. D-Day, VI (State Collapse)

Squall pulled back and parried the upcoming slashes – dissonant in their rhythm, each one distracted him a bit more and he struggled to keep up with Rinoa’s onslaught. Focusing on the attack and not his own thoughts, he kept himself contained, his body tight, and simply parried as she rushed on, shifting only to accommodate her. It started to feel like a dance very early on: she was leading, and he was willing to follow.

Rinoa pushed him, driving him back still, and Squall, still parrying and blocking, knew that he couldn’t step back forever, that sooner than later, he would run out of space. He decided to retaliate and waited for her blow – the gunblade came at him from his left. Squall rose his weapon with both hands and blocked her. He shifted the tip of his gunblade and slid it behind hers, locking the blades.

Rinoa flashed her winning smile. Squall didn’t wait for her to wind up her punch, his knee rose and his leg sprang. The nose of his boot collided with her chest and he used his sole to push her back. Rinoa retreated, the winning smile giving way to an expression of surprise, but she barely had time to dwell on it as she deflected Squall’s thrust.

Squall then took the offensive, coming at Rinoa with methodical, well-practiced slashes and thrusts, aiming for her torso but frustrated always by her excellent defense. Nevertheless, didn’t relent and pushed her, stepping forward with every other blow, advancing steadily and keeping her on the defensive.

Finding the moment, he launched into a sequence, his blade moving from blow to blow in graceful arcs, each new strike being the end and beginning of another. His fluid movements were backed up by his feet advancing at a rhythmic pace – his gunblade was dancing. Rinoa was thrown off by the first blow, but she recovered and naturally matched her step to his and began to counter. Her every move became a perfect mirror image of his every move.

Rinoa suddenly broke the flow and spun around, keeping her gunblade level. Squall took a step back and let her put some distance in between them. Rinoa stopped spinning, adjusted her stance and poised to strike. Her gunblade began to glow a dark red, an aura flowing along the length of the blade.

Squall blinked. Rinoa carried her winning smile, but the red glow coating her weapon was gone. He took a step forward precisely when she did, and she leapt into the air and brought her gunblade down. Squall lifted his own and blocked her. She landed, her body scraping his, and immediately withdrew a glowing, red punch.

Squall blinked.

The punch came swinging, and he swatted it away with the back of his hand. Rinoa’s body came to a standstill, which Squall used to swing his elbow and crash it against her temple. She groaned in pain and struck blindly, swinging just to avoid him, and he used her opening to swing with brute strength, in attempt to overwhelm her. Rinoa blocked him, and pushed him away.

“How..?” she asked, “You can’t-“

“Like junctioning.” Squall said, keeping his distance, his stance neutral, “Just like junctioning.”

Squall shrugged off the last of his habit and launched into an attack, coming at her with an infinity slash, using the end point to draw his sword back and thrust forward. She side-stepped him and he immediately swung towards her, tracing a diagonal line in the air, which she badly deflected, giving him time to side-step and come at her from the other side. Rinoa barely blocked his blow, and Squall pushed her blade away. He closed the distance between them and before Rinoa could react, delivered a headbutt. He heard cartilege crunch under his forehead. Ignoring the sharp pain gripping his skull, he swung from below, and Rinoa leapt back to avoid it.

“What’s the matter?” Squall asked as she pointed her gunblade towards him and started to retreat as he began to advance, “It's hard when I step outside the skill set you drew from me, isn’t it?”

Rinoa’s free hand curled into a fist. Squall saw it burst into flames, and blinked. There was only flesh now. She opened her fingers and thrust her palm forward, grinning. In her mind’s eye, she saw Squall catch fire, the flames licking his body from his boots up. When he simply stood there, her eyes widened.

“How are you doing that..?” she asked, her voice quivering.

* * *

In the distance, the remaining GFs closed in on Valcura, all at once in one final move to bring it down. The bird of prey spun around, its blades swinging wildly, and it shrieked, as if protesting its impending fate. The GFs around her moved in at the same time, claws and jaws extending, and each one tore off a piece. The Great Knife of Tonberry tore into Valcura’s throat and traced a bloody line down as Diablos’ claws tore free two of the six wings trying to keep the GF afloat. Shiva joined Diablos and her icy touch froze two of the remaining four wings and shattered it.

Eden hovered above Valcura, waiting for the moment. When everything aligned, its sting came down sharply, impaling the poor Guardian Force.

* * *

Rinoa’s eyes flew open as her Guardian Force’s death throes tore the skies apart and the feeling of a piece of her dying shot through her like a bullet. Squall saw the impact and understood that her monstrous creation had met an end in the field. Knowing that he still retained the upper hand, he waited for her to grasp the impact of what had just happened.

“You...” her eyes were ablaze with hatred, “What did you do..?”

“What is junctioning?” he asked, standing his ground, “It’s the instilling of memories, or the instilling of something in memories. Us ‘humans’ don’t know how we cast spells, because junctioning spells means we only know that we can do it. We know, because we have the memory of having done it before. _That’s_ your red magic – you’re making memories. Back then, Selphie and Brea could have walked in at any time, _if_ they knew there wasn’t really a barrier there - just the memory of a barrier planted in their minds.”

Rinoa side-step and surreptitiously began to circle-strafe. Squall adjusted as he talked.

“That’s how you’re keeping up. You drew my skill set from me. Years of training in a split second. But...“ he took a sudden step and teasingly gave her blade a little nudge, “I’m a gunblade specialist. You’re not.”

Squall gave her another nudge, and saw her flinch. She was backing away, glancing over her shoulder to see if she had room to retreat.

“It’s over, Rin.” Squall said, “Your state collapsed.”

“Like _fuck!_ ”

Rinoa came at him like a hurricane, using the moves he had favored for speed – they lacked strength, so he countered with his. Strong blows, sturdy thrusts pushed her back further and little by little Squall increased his ferocity, adding more brute force to each successive strike. Rinoa was barely keeping up, her defensive moves unable to counter the blows she didn’t instinctively know were coming. Her face, contorted into an expression of pure rage was now a mask of desperation, and Squall pressed on.

Delivering a final blow pushed her blade away and her torso was wide open. Squall pulled his gunblade back, stepped forward and thrust it towards her chest with every ounce of strength he could muster. The blade sank in easily and got stuck halfway. Rinoa’s body shook.

They stood, locked into one another.

Pain came to him soon afterward, pinching and cold. Squall looked down and saw Rinoa’s gunblade sticking out of his side – it wasn’t buried deep. How had she...

_Stupid. That was one of my finishing moves. She knew it._

Rinoa fell to her knees and Squall pulled his gunblade from her. He grasped the handle of her gunblade and pulled it out of himself also, prompting a spurt of blood and a clenched-teeth groan.

“Squall’s...” she choked and spat blood, “...sword will... pierce my heart... I guess it’s... okay if it’s... you...”

Rinoa fell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The reason why Rinoa engages Squall in a one-on-one duel with gunblades is the reason why she forced him to do so in the first act of the Third Sorceress War: using magic against her is too dangerous, so she relies mostly on his (natural) overconfidence with the gunblade to take him down. Effectively, this tactic just requires her to outsmart him, not truly outfight him, in order to win.
> 
> As for how "red magic" was just a ruse: Rinoa does mention early on that she glimpses things in people's minds. This was an indication, and I was hoping indication enough, that she has mild telepathic powers, or powers of illusion. This was the reason why she was able to force Squall into her trap the first time around and it was also how she manipulated him. However, in a full circle, first the Fated Children outsmart and outfight her during the rescue in the second act; then Squall first outsmarts and then outfights her, which goes hand-in-hand with her characterization thus far as overconfident and over-reliant on her own powers, which proves to be her downfall... which means Squall's assessment of her earlier was absolutely correct.


	19. Victoria

A grenade, the last one in a long line, went off and the armored glass protecting Ocean Garden’s bridge came down with a shrill, crystalline scream. Thick shards fell down, some of them falling into Ocean Garden’s bridge and a rush of air flooded the room. Without the armored glass separating the two Gardens’ bridges, all Irvine and his small group of soldiers had to do was to leap over to the other side. Irvine arranged it so that they would jump in groups of twos – swordsmen first, followed by him, followed by the two sharpshooters he had.

The four swordsmen he kept under his command leapt over the gap in between and landed onto the other bridge. Irvine himself, his PK380 in hand, wound up his step and then launched himself to the other side.

His feet had barely found the ground when a bright flash of light came, followed by a screech, and Irvine barely had time to hit the floor before the Laser Eye cut clean through the four swordsmen, reducing them to separate chunks of charred flesh. Irvine rolled, bringing his gun to bear, but before he could shoot, a sword pinned his hand down. He howled in pain and the gun slipped away.

“You’re not going anywhere, Field Marshal.” Lea said.

A round of shots whizzed over Irvine’s head and Lea hit the deck. Before a second volley could come, a sharp screeching sound filled the room and the explosion of bright lights blinded Irvine. When the light slowly dissipated, he saw Quistis, leaning heavily on her cane, her breathing labored. She looked down at Irvine and smiled. As she staggered towards the Field Marshal, Irvine saw that there were other SeeDs behind her, weapons at the ready. He picked out Nida’s familiar face from the crowd.

Quistis stopped by his gun. She went down on one knee, brought down her cane hand and hooked one of her fingers around the trigger guard. She stood back up and closed the distance between her and Lea.

“Thank you, Lea.” She said, “You can let him go now.”

Lea pulled her sword out of his flesh and Irvine groaned. He quickly rose to his knees to find Quistis looming over him. Quistis let go of her cane and it clacked on the floor.

* * *

Brea felt a shift behind her, and eyed the hill of rubble going into the Mansion. She holstered one of her pistols and held out her hand. Reaching out with hesitant fingers, she tried to feel for the barrier. She touched nothing but thin air. Now emboldened, she slowly started to make her way to the hill, hand held in front of her. She wasn’t quarter of a way through that she threw caution in the wind and ran.

* * *

Irvine chuckled and then, softly, started to laugh.

“Something funny, Irvy?” Quistis asked.

Irvine looked up at her, eyes full of resignation. “Nothing, it’s just... this whole thing... heh... ridiculous.”

“It wasn’t anything complicated.” Quistis said, “All you had to do was to stand with us. Act like the veteran you were supposed to be."

“None of us are who we’re supposed to be.” He said, “None of us ever were. I mean, look at us. We’re still the same scared kids left in the dark, wondering why our parents didn’t want us. This world... it never made sense. You, me, them-“ he cocked his head in the direction of the SeeDs, “Who has it all straight? Who’s really sane?”

Taken aback, Quistis said, “I don’t have the answer for that.”

“I just wanted to get away from it all.” Irvine said, “To pretend like it never happened... that none of it did. That we never changed the world, that we had just lived... it wasn’t enough. It just wasn’t enough.”

Quistis didn’t say anything.

Irvine sighed, almost contentedly “And so, here we are, in the new world. The world we made, all over again. I think I’d like to try and live in this one, if I could... but we know better than that.”

Quistis stepped around him and stood behind him. She put the gun to the back of his neck.

“If I could go back,” Irvine said, “I would try to do things differently. But we can’t change the past, can we..?”

Quistis pulled the trigger. The bullet tore his throat apart and Irvine fell, choking and gurgling, his hands clutching at the wound. His legs kicked the ground as he buckled, twisted and shook. He didn’t take too long to die and when he did, he died drowning in his own blood.

The gun slipped from her fingers. Quistis sighed and held back the tears that were threatening to fall. She walked across the pool of blood and retrieved her cane. She leaned on it, thankful for the support it offered. She felt tired, in that moment, tired of it all.

She looked down and saw the man she would've called her brother once upon a time, dead at her feet.

She wondered if the world they had made now would be less complete now that he was gone.

* * *

When Brea made it to the president’s office, she saw the duel. The few scant furniture had been thrown around. There were papers scattered on the ground and the few carpets were rumpled up.

She turned and saw him. He was standing there, his gunblade still in his hand, clutching at his side. Brea stood, stunned, and couldn’t move. All she could do was watch.

The gunblade slipped from his fingers and crashed onto the ground. Squall fell down beside it and laid there, eyes looking at the bleak, gray skies above. Right beside him, Rinoa, unable to die and writhing at the very edge of life, was trying to speak.

It was the most content he had ever felt.

He closed his eyes.

One thought.

_I’m done._


	20. Transfer

A mess of images followed Squall into the dark. A sequence of images, thoughts and notions floated him onwards. He couldn’t hold onto any of them for long, but each one came through, however briefly, loud and clear.

Brea’s voice, desperate, urging him to open his eyes.

Selphie’s hands.

The soft, blue glow of a Curaga spell.

His brothers and sisters lifting him to his feet.

A sorceress cannot die without passing her powers on.

The smell of worn leather and gun metal.

The characteristic rumbling of a Galbadian military jeep engine.

Rugged terrain, lined up with small tremors, pain hidden in each one.

Matron. We have to go to Centra, find Matron, find Sis.

Take Rinoa. Take her. We have to take her with us.

Something about the Dollet Dukedom and a ship.

The smell of salt water and the wind.

Being ready to fall, wanting to fall, needing to. Not able to, not now.

The sound his boots made on the wire mesh ramp.

Corridors, labyrinthine, twisting and turning, seemingly endless.

The cot. Softer than could be possible.

The intercutting bouts of jerking awake to many things.

The sharp, biting pain of antiseptic.

The pricking of the needle.

The barely-present pinch of thread.

Selphie’s voice, telling him to rest.

"Sleep..."

* * *

Squall opened his eyes to a bare light bulb swaying gently overhead. His body was still tired, and there was a rather sharp ache in his side, but his mind had already got him wired. He turned to his side, sat up and immediately felt the pulling pain. He remembered his wound and opted to get up as slowly as possible. He got up and steadied himself before staggering to the door. It opened to a hallway, belonging to the maze from his semi-conscious recollections. Deciding that he needed to be outside, Squall followed the hallways, almost cautiously navigating the unfamiliar territory, until he found his way to the deck. Once there, he aimlessly walked around, circling the ship bow to stern, until he decided that he was too tired to explore any more. He found a couple of benches at an elevated platform near the bow. He sat down to rest.

From where he was sitting, Squall could see the sea, expanding in all directions and creating the illusion that they were lost, with no land mass to be reached. No refuge, just the water.

Squall sighed. His thoughts were interrupted by a soft pair of hands finding his head and caressing his still drastically short hair. A kiss was delivered to the top of his head.

“Welcome back, handsome.” Selphie said.

Squall closed his eyes and for a moment, there was nothing else in the world but him and her.

“Darling, you’re being held together by a few Curaga spells, a bit of field dressing and some string. I don’t think you should be out and about. I’d tell you even more on that, but if I know you by now, you’d just ignore me.”

Squall smiled weakly as she circled around him and joined him on the bench. They didn’t speak for a while, but instead listened to the sound of the ship sliding through water, and felt the wind in their faces.

“So.” Selphie said, “Once more from the top... what’s on your mind?”

“I was just wondering... after all that’s happened, after all this... where do we go from here?”

“I don’t know.”

“We changed the world.” Squall said, “Whatever the world was before, it’s an entirely different thing now. We don’t know this world.”

“It’s a little early to say. I think it’ll make some kind of sense once we’re less tired and less wounded. Y’know, when the dust settles.”

“Where are we going?” Squall asked.

“Too tired to say, sweets, seriously.”

“I meant right now.”

“Oh." Selphie smiled wearily, "I don’t think I have enough in me to give you the full, so I’ll go with the abridged version.” Selphie said, “We’re going to Centra. Sir Laguna managed to score us a ship from Dollet.”

“What’s in Centra?”

“Matron and Elle. You insisted.”

Squall wondered why he had, but remembering the fact that he had defeated Rinoa, he understood.

“Where’s Rinoa?” he asked.

“On board. As per your request. Nida contacted the SeeD ship. We’ll meet Matron on the beach.”

“And then...”

Selphie turned his head and smashed her lips to his. Squall felt the warmth of her kiss, and relaxed. When Selphie broke it, he was almost ready to fall again.

“Just keep that beautiful, brooding head of yours a little more simple, a little more in the now for a while and earn my eternal devotion, yeah?” she said, snuggling closer. Squall welcomed her presence and decided to hold his tongue – he figured that would make her happy, and he himself could do without the ever-circling vultures of future predictions for a while.

* * *

Brea watched her General from afar, one hand uncharacteristically busy with the cross on her neck. She hadn’t really done anything in the final offensive, but she felt weary. The trip wasn’t unpleasant, and it wasn’t excessively long, but all of that contributed nothing in lightening the load on her shoulders.

Watching her General draw strength from what many knew as the Trabian outcast, Brea couldn’t help but feel the absence contained in the Hyne cross her fingers were busy with. A moment’s recollection, and she was in Trabia Garden again, surviving the assault. The next moment, she was in Ocean Garden, spelling out her name. Then she was in the Presidential Palace, watching a drunken Selphie spit insults in her direction.

And, inevitably, she was in that house in Cupola, inserting shards of glass in between the layers of Caraway’s skin. She was there, holding a gun to his head and then, she was there again, watching the blood spread on the floor.

Brea sunk to the ground. Something swelled in her chest, like a knot expanding without coming unraveled and she sighed. Without warning, she sobbed and tears followed. Burying her face into her hands, Brea cried freely. Everything was pouring out of her, and she let it, eager to let it all go and at the same time knowing that she couldn’t. She wouldn’t.

_Nice shot! Sorry, couldn’t help but notice, you have very good aim. Better than most. Hell, you’re almost a pinhead. Oh, sorry, where are my manners, I’m Jake. What’s your name?_

_Spell out your name._

_Do I know you from somewhere?_

_Spell out your name._

_Brea. I’m Brea Willings._

* * *

Inside one of the crew quarters, Seifer woke up to the familiar warmth of Quistis wrapped around him. He didn’t want to disturb her, so instead opted simply to adore her sleeping form. The tiny scars on her face didn’t tarnish her beauty a bit, and her slightly-parted lips, puffed up cheeks filled him with peace.

He slipped his fingers righg underneath the permanent fist held by her right hand to feel her pulse. He wished from Hyne that he could go back and change that, change where she was on that day... but he couldn’t bring himself to say who he would trade up for Quistis. 

Strangely enough, he found himself thinking that they were equally important to him, were held equally dear.

A strange notion came to him, that this was indeed a new world they were gently sailing through, a world they had made. Seifer didn’t know what it looked like or what it would bring, but for now, he was content in closing his eyes and feeling Quistis’ heartbeat in the dark.


	21. Transmission

Edea stepped off of the White SeeD ship, followed closely by Ellone and Cid, and made her way down the rickety pier. Flanked on both sides by the breakwater lines, they made their way to the beach. Once on the sand, Edea took off her shoes, as did Ellone and Cid. Cid took a moment to roll up the hems of his trousers, and after that, they continued. Their walk was devoid of urgency, devoid of panic – without speaking to one another, they could tell each other what they knew was waiting for them.

Nida hadn’t told them much, but they knew that the war was over. It had been won, but, Edea felt that it had been won at a terrible cost, as always.

It took them fifteen minutes to reach the orphanage through the beach. Once they got close enough, they saw them. Cid and Edea saw their children, now adults, returned home. Ellone saw her brothers and sisters, returning from the war, alive.

In their eagerness to greet them, none of them noticed the figure lying at the feet of the veterans.

* * *

Lying in the sand, bleeding from a gruesome, open chest wound and writhing on the verge of death, was Rinoa. Her fingers were grasping at the air and her breath was coming in short, subdued gasps. Squall was standing there, supported by Selphie. Quistis, leaning on her cane, was waiting arm-in-arm with Seifer. Nida and Xu were also in attendance, looking spent. Brea, silent and still, almost stood in vigil next to the undying sorceress.

Edea stopped dead at her tracks, prompting Cid to do the same. Ellone, as if moved by morbid curiosity, approached further and got to Rinoa’s side. The raven-haired sorceress’ eyes found her, but Ellone was sure that they no longer saw anything.

“Squall..?” Edea could manage.

“Hello, Matron.” Squall said. He looked pale, but it was nothing compared to the dust and dirt weighing down the others around him.

“What happened?” Edea asked.

“The war is over.” Squall said.

“And...” Edea couldn’t bring herself to point, “...her?”

“A sorceress cannot die unless she has a successor she can transfer her powers to... or unless she kills herself.” Squall said, “You know that.”

Ellone froze. She turned to Squall, disbelief clear in her face.

“You’re saying-“

“Matron, will you take her powers?” Squall asked.

Edea couldn’t help but tense up, and Cid noticed it. He took her hand and squeezed reassuringly, and spoke softly on her behalf.

“Why her?” he asked Squall.

“She is a Sorceress. She was one before all this.” Squall said, “And despite everything that has happened, it’d be cruel to leave Rinoa like this.”

“And what makes you so sure I won’t stray..?” Edea asked.

“You have your Knight.” Squall said, “A sorceress’ knight is her connection to the world, wasn’t that what you said once?”

“Some sorceresses kill their knights to separate themselves from the world, yes.” Edea said, “To immerse themselves deeper into pure magic.”

“Exactly. But you wouldn’t do that.” Squall said.

“Squall, I...”

“The Headmaster-“

“Just Cid.” Cid reminded him.

“ _Cid_ has always been your knight.” Squall said, “Your connection to him was damaged by Ultimecia, but it was still there. He connects you to the world, and to sever that, you have to throw him away. I don’t believe you’re quite capable of that.”

“That was why you took me, wasn’t it?” Seifer asked, “I wasn’t becoming your, or rather Ultimecia’s, Knight because I was actually chosen. I was there to replace our old headmaster, because you couldn’t –or wouldn’t- kill him.”

Edea hung her head. Everyone took it as a sign of shame. Only Squall, and to some extent Selphie, knew why.

“But what happened to Daniel...” she said.

“Was not your fault.” Squall said, “And you only did what you had to do to protect those you loved.”

“Is there nobody else..?” Edea pleaded.

Squall sighed. “You’re the only one I can trust with this. Anyone else, and we’d have to take certain measures to contain, measures that we know aren’t infallible or even very reliable. The more reliable methods are excessively cruel. Of course, I will resort to those measures if I absolutely have to, but if I can avoid them at all, I’d like to. The truth is, Matron, I only know one person who can simply exist with this power and not try to discover just how far, just how deep it can go. You.”

“Why? For Hyne's sake, why me?”

“Because of Daniel. Because of Ultimecia. Because of all the things that put you in Kinneas’ sights that night.”

Nobody spoke. Xu and Nida shifted uncomfortably, and Ellone simply stood, glaring at Squall in disbelief. When she couldn’t contain it, she broke the silence:

“You can’t ask that of her, of any of us.” Ellone said, “I’m sorry, but you just can’t.”

Squall looked at her. Ellone almost backed down – he looked so tired, so worn down by everything. It gave Ellone the impression that had Selphie not been there, he wouldn’t even be standing.

“What would you have me do, Sis?” he asked, “Look at her. Nobody deserves this.”

Ellone averted her gaze.

Edea shook her head.

“Cid...”

“I know.” Cid said, “I knew when I loved you.”

Edea smiled gratefully, and gave him a light kiss on his cheek. Her knight, as always, would stand beside her, she knew that much. She slipped from her husband’s grasp and approached Rinoa. Ellone stepped aside, and all those assembled watched.

“I’ll do it.” Edea said.

* * *

Edea crouched beside Rinoa. The sorceress was a terrible sight, but for Edea, who had seen life desert little Daniel’s eyes with her hands around his neck, it was nothing. Looking at the half-corpse feebly writhing in front of her, she saw herself – what she could have been, what she would have been had it not been for her orphan children. It was just another sorceress on the verge of death, having exhausted power she didn’t quite understand.

“Rinoa.” Edea said softly, “I’ll take your powers. Give them to me, and you can die. Just let go of them, and all this will be over. Then you can rest.”

Rinoa’s eyes turned in their sockets, and then returned to look into Edea’s. Edea saw recognition in there, and perhaps a plea for pity. For forgiveness, maybe? Edea felt that she would like to, but it wasn’t hers to give. Instead, she reached out and gently stroked her raven hair.

“Shhh... it’ll be fine. You’ll be free.”

Rinoa sighed contentedly, a thin stream of blood trickling from between her lips. She closed her eyes and released her breath. A swirling mass of dancing lights erupted from her gaping wound, gently spilled and came to embrace Edea. Edea shivered, feeling a tingling sensation pass through her, and felt a piece that she didn’t feel was missing before it appeared click back into place. As the light died down, she sighed, content. She felt home again.

Rinoa relaxed, her limbs releasing slowly, and she lay in the sand, broken. She died on the beach, breathing out her last and listening to the soft whispers of the waves lazily beating the shore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, you see another aspect of the Sorceress lore I've worked with throughout these series: that a Sorceress has to transfer her powers to a willing taker or commit suicide in order to die properly. This works, sort of, hand-in-hand with Sorceresses living way longer than an average human and needing their Knights to connect them to the world that they will, since they live so long, gradually detach from.
> 
> This is also added to the earlier notion put forward in "The Few Remaining Strands" that black magic, as such, is extremely tempting due to its purity.


	22. Hors de Combat (The End of a War)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hors de Combat: "Out of action due to injury or damage."

Brea enjoyed the sensation of the water rising and rushing in between her toes and then retreating, dragging some of the sand under her feet with every sway. Her eyes were fixed on the horizon. It stretched on, ever expanding, until the sky met the water in some indeterminable point, creating the illusion of being endless. Brea knew that it wasn’t, but it contended her to pretend that it was.

She pulled out the cigarette pack she had gotten from a Dollet sailor and pulled one out. She pulled out the matches she had snuck out of the galley and lit her cigarette. Two drags in, she started to feel a little dizzy – this was her first since taking position with her General outside of Deling.

She felt tired. Even after sleeping for almost a day on the bed of an orphan, she felt worn out. There was no desire in her, no will to do anything besides just sit there, watch the horizon and be completely devoid of any thought at all.

A voice interrupted her.

“Mind if I join you?”

Brea looked up to see her General.

“By all means, sir.”

Squall sat down next to his aide. He watched the horizon for any change, any variation that might have led him to start thinking, but Selphie’s suggestion of keeping it simple for the time being seemed to have gotten a hold of him. There was nothing on his mind but the ever-present pull of his makeshift stitches and the memory of Rinoa’s body, still and seemingly at peace, being lowered into the grave they had dug in the flower field. It seemed fitting that she be laid to rest where she had, unknowingly, prophesized her fate. Soil had covered her up and she, for all the things that had happened, was laid to rest.

Squall felt a bit of anger at that. She had taken the easy end of the deal. For her, it was over, and though her sins would not be forgiven or forgotten, she had found the end of it all. His thoughts drifted Zell; how he, too, had chosen to step outside, to not continue to exist, to not carry on.

They didn’t have that luxury of choice, he had decided. He knew that for their survival or their victory to mean anything, they had to carry on. But not immediately, not just now. Not just yet. Instead, he chose to focus on Brea and decided to take a leaf out of Selphie’s book.

“What’s on your mind?” Squall said.

“I’m trying not to think, sir.”

“Drop the sir, Brea.”

Brea shot a glance at him that made him think that this was the first time he had managed to actually piss her off. When she spoke, her voice was sharp and determined:

“Would you like me to deny everything that has led me here?”

Squall considered it and then, hesitant, said, “...of course not.”

“Then, if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to keep things as they are, sir.”

“Does that mean you’ll be staying with us?”

“Where else will I go, sir?”

“Trabia, maybe.”

“Trabia belongs to my past.” Brea said, “There’s no place for me there, sir. My place is with you.”

“I never thought when I picked you out of the crowd that you’d stay with us for this long. I know it hasn’t been easy for you.”

“For any of us, sir.”

“Maybe. But the rest of us, we’ve been through this before. I know firsthand what it can do to a person. I’d hate to see it happen to you.”

Brea bit her lower lip. “I’ve... permission to speak freely, sir?”

“You don’t have to ask.”

Brea took a heavy drag from her cigarette, “I’ve... done things that I’m not proud of. Things that I haven’t fully come to terms with yet. Maybe I never will.”

“The question is, can you live with them?”

Brea squinted. She could almost see the line between the ocean and the sky, “I did what I had to do. I did what was required of me at the time. I did my duty to the fullest extent that I could. As such, sir, I can live with my actions, but I don’t know if I can fully accept them.”

“Zell’s grandfather was a great soldier.” Squall said, “Zell idolized him, practically worshipped the idea of him. Zell himself was a martial artist, probably the best I’ve ever seen... but a martial artist needs to be physically close to his enemy in order to fight."

Brea raised an eyebrow.

"The official record wouldn't say this but... during the Second War, right at the end, Ultimecia saw him coming straight for her, and knocked him out first thing.”

Brea pressed her cigarette into the sand. Squall continued:

“He was there... he had done his duty, several times over. He had given everything he had. I don’t presume to know his exact thoughts, but I think not being able to be among the ones who took Ultimecia down became his worst regret. He felt slighted by it, humbled in a way that he really didn't want to be. It ate away at him and in the end... everything else, everything we had fought for, fought to save just wasn’t enough. See, Brea, it’s not a question of you doing your duty. I don’t think there’s a one that can contest that you went beyond the call of duty. The question is: is it enough to live?”

Brea didn't hesitate. “It has to do, sir. It has to suffice. I refuse to believe that I did what I did just to end up not being able to live with myself.”

Squall didn't comment on it. He silently wished that Zell could have seen it that way.

“Anyway..." he said, "Once we sort through this mess, I think we’re gonna have to rebuild. Reconstruct everything, starting with the Garden. I’m going to need your help.”

“Always, sir.”

“Good soldier.”

Nothing more needed to be said.

* * *

Squall and Brea sat for what, to them, seemed like a lifetime, each one lost in their own thoughts or lack thereof. They didn’t hear the unsteady footsteps approaching them until Quistis and Seifer were standing right beside them. They sat down and joined their contemplation. Quistis, with some difficulty, took Brea's side.

“I remember this view.” Quistis said, “I do recall that it was a bit less sad than this, however.”

“It’s not the same view.” Squall said, “It’s not the same world.”

“Now that, I’ll agree with.” Seifer said.

They fell into silence, sharing the moment. Before long, Selphie came down and plopped herself next to Squall, snaking her arm around his.

"What're you talkin' 'bout?" she asked.

"Nothing." Squall said, "We weren't."

"Oh come on, that's all I get?" Selphie said, "You guys are sore winners, you know that?"

Nida and Xu came and without a word, sat down. Nobody spoke for a while. They were all seemingly lost in watching the horizon and listening to the waves. A moment of pure calm under bleak, gray skies.

Seifer chuckled, prompting them to turn and look at him."

“Alright," he said, "I’ll be the bastard who asks. What now?”

They all considered it, each one visiting their hopes, fears, thoughts and projections, but none of them answered.

“Now?” Squall said, “I think now... we live.”

* * *

...and for the years the come, he would wake up in the middle of the night, fearing that everything had been for nothing, that he had failed. Every time he would, he'd find Selphie by his side, sleeping soundly next to him. He would then think of Seifer, struggling to overcome himself; Quistis, who would always walk with a cane and would never use one of her hands again; of Brea, who was still standing by him every day.

He would think of Zell and his face as he always remembered it now: contorted into an expression of pure despair and exhaustion. He had been so tired up on that stage, so very tired of it all.

He would think of Rinoa, dead in the sand, finally at peace.

In those nights, he would go back to sleep thinking about how far they'd come and trying to take comfort in the fact that they were ready for the wars ahead.

Because he would always remember what was said in every book of warfare there was and what opened _Biblis Tactica._ The truth of the world that they were living in, as true as it ever would be:

_"Peace is ephemeral. War is forever."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...and there ends the Third Sorceress War.
> 
> I actually had an entire epilogue to this, where I'd outline the lives of our cast, but given that I wrote a few sequels renders that pretty much moot. Besides which, that kind of an epilogue did run counter to everything that this series came to revolve around thematically, which is expressed at the very end of this chapter.
> 
> I want to thank you for reading. You're the best!


End file.
